OVER    THE    OCEAN; 


OR, 


SIGHTS  AND  SCENES 


IN 


FOREIGN   LANDS. 


BY 


CURTIS    GUILD, 

\  i 

EDITOR    OF    THE    BOSTON   COMMERCIAL    BULLETIN. 


BOSTON : 

LEE    AND    SHEPARD,   PUBLISHERS. 

NEW    YORK: 

LEE,  SHEPARD   AND   DILLINGHAM. 

1871.   ■ 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871, 

By    LEE    AND    SHEPARD, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Cambridge :  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


Stereotyped  at  the  Boston  Stereotype  Foundry, 
No.  19  Spring  Lane. 


PREFACE. 


The  following  pages  are  the  record  of  the  fruition  of  years 
of  desire  and  anticipation ;  probably  the  same  that  fills  the 
hearts  of  many  who  will  read  them  —  a  tour  in  Europe. 

The  habits  of  observation,  acquired  by  many  years'  con- 
stant occupation  as  a  journalist,  were  found  by  the  author 
to  have  become  almost  second  nature,  even  when  the  duties 
of  that  profession  were  thrown  aside  for  simple  gratification 
and  enjoyment;  consequently,  during  a  journey  of  nearly 
seven  months,  which  was  enjoyed  with  all  the  zest  of  a  first 
tour,  the  matter  which  composes  this  volume  was  prepared. 

Its  orioinal  form  was  in  a  series  of  sketches  in  the  columns 
of  the  Boston  Commercial  Bulletin.  In  these  the  writer  at- 
tempted to  give  as  vivid  and  exact  an  idea  of  the  sights 
and  scenes  which  he  witnessed  as  could  be  conveyed  to 
those  who  had  never  visited  Europe. 

Whether  describing  Westminster  Abbey,  or  York  Minster, 
Stratford-on-Avon,  or  the  streets  of  London;  the  wonders 
of  the  Louvre,  or  the  gayeties  and  glitter  of  Paris ;  the  gran- 
deur of  the  Alpine  passes ;  the  quaintness  of  old  continental 
cities;  experiences  of  post  travelling ;  the  romantic  beauties 

(iii) 


IV  PREFACE. 

of  the  Italian  lakes ;  the  underground  wonders  of  Adelsberg, 
or  the  aqueous  highways  of  Venice,  —  the  author  aimed  to 
give  many  minute  particulars,  which  foreign  letter-writers 
deem  of  too  little  importance  to  mention,  but  which,  never- 
theless, are  of  great  interest  to  the  reader. 

That  the  effort  was,  in  some  measure,  successful,  has  been 
evinced  by  a  demand  for  the  sketches  in  permament  form, 
sufficient  to  warrant  the  publication  of  this  volume. 

In  so  presenting  them,  it  is  with  the  belief  that  it  may  be 
pleasant  to  those  who  have  visited  the  same  scenes  to  re- 
visit them  in  fancy  with  the  writer,  and  with  a  hope  that 
the  volume  may,  in  some  degree,  serve  as  a  guide  to  those 
who  intend  to  go  "  over  the  ocean,"  as  well  as  an  agreeable 

entertainment  to  the  stay-at-homes. 

C.  G. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE 

Goin g  Abroad.  —  What  it  costs.  —  Hints  to  Tourists.  —  Life  on  board  Ship.  — 
Land  Ho  !  —  Examining  Luggage.  —  The  Emerald  Isle.  —  Blarney  Castle.  — 
Dublin.  —  Dublin  Castle.  —  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral.  —  Cheap  John's  Paradise. 
—  Phoenix  Park.  — Across  the  Irish  Sea.  —  Railroad  travelling  in  England.— 
Guard  vs.  Conductor.  —  Word  to  the  Wise.  — Railroad  Stations. —  An  Old 
English  City.—  Chester  Cathedral.  —  The  City  Walls 1-28 


CHAPTER   II. 

Chester  to  Liverpool.  —  An  English  Breakfast.  —  A  Trial  of  Patience.  —  Liv- 
erpool Docks.  —  St.  George's  Hall.— Toverty  and  Suffering.  — The  Lake 
District.— Homo  of  the  Poets.  —  Keswick.  —  An  English  Church. —The 
Druids' Temple.  — Brougham  Hall. —A  Roadside  Inn 28-4G 


CHAPTER    III. 

Edinburgh.  —  Historic  Streets.  —  Edinburgh  Castle.  —  Bonnie  Dundee.  — 
Rooms  of  Historic  Story.  — The  Scottish  Regalia. —Curiosities  of  the  Old 
City.—  Holyrood  Palace.  —  Relics  of  the  Past.— Holyrood  Abbey.  — Anti- 
quarian Museum.  —  Scott  and  Scotland.  —  Hawthornden.  —  Roslin  Chapel. 

—  Melrose  Abbey.— The  Abbey  Hotel.— Abbotsford.— Stirling    Castle.— 
The  Tournament  Field.  — Field  of  Baunockbum.  —  Lady  of  the  Lake  Scenes. 

—  Scotch  Lakes  and  Hills 47-79 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Glasgow  Cathedral.  —  Vestiges  of  Vandalism.  — Bible  Stories  in  Colored 
Glass.  — The  Actor's  Epitaph.  —  Tam  O'Shanter's  Ride.  —  Burns's  Cottage. 
—  Kirk  Alloway  — A  Reminder  from  the  Witches.  —  Bonnie  Doon.  —  New- 

y 


VI  CONTENTS. 

eastle-on-Tyne.  —  York.—  Beauties  of  York  Minster. —Old  Saxon  Relics. 

—  Sheffield.  —  The  Cutlery  "Works — English  Mechanics. — English  Ale. — 
Chatsworth.  — Interior  of  the  Palace.  —  Sculpture  Gallery — Landscape 
Effects.  —  Grand  Conservatory.  —  Haddon  Hall 80-115 

CHAPTER    V. 

Kenilworth.  —  Stratford  on  Avon.  —  Interesting  Mementos.  —  Stratford 
Church.  — Shakespeare's  Safeguard.  —'Warwick  Castle.  —  Dungeon  and  Hall. 

—  Warder's  Horn  and  Warwick  Vase.  —  Leicester's  Hospital.  —  Beauchamp 
Chapel.  — Mugby  Junction.  — Oxford. —The  Mitre  Tavern. —Bodleian  Li- 
brary. —  Literary  Treasures.  —  Curiosities  and  Rarities.  —  Story  of  an  Old 
Portrait.  —  Queen  Bess  on  Matrimony.  —  Addison's  Walk.  —  Boating  on  the 
Isis. —  Martyr's  Memorial 110-151 

CHAPTER    VI. 

London.  —  Feeing  Servants. —Railway  Porters.  — London  Hotels.  —  Sights 
in  London  Streets.  —  Cabs  and  Cab-drivers.  —  London  Shops.— Hints  to 
Buyers. —  A  London  Banking-house.  —  Routine  vs.  Courtesy.  —  Westmin- 
ster Abbey.  —  Tombs  of  Kings  and  "Warriors.  —  Poets'  Corner.  —  Tributes 
to  Genius.  — Penny  Steamboat  Trip.  —  Kew  Gardens.  —  The  Star  and  Gar- 
ter   152-185 

CHAPTER    VII. 

The  Original  Wax  Works. —  London  Theatres.  —  Full  Dress  at  the  Opera. — 
Play  Bills.  —  A  Palace  for  the  People.  —  Parks  of  London.  —  ZoBlogical  Gar- 
dens.—  The  Tower  of  London. —  The  Silver  Key.— Site  of  the  Scaffold. — 
Knights  in  Armor.— Regalia  of  England.— St.  Paul's.  — The  Whispering 
Gallery. —  Up  into  the  Ball.  — Down  into  the  Crypt.  — Gog  and  Magog.— 
Bank  of  England.  —  Hampton  Court  Palace.  — The  Gardens  and  People. — 
Windsor  Castle.  —  Windsor  Parks.  —  London  Newspapers.  —  The  Times.  — 
The  British  Museum.  — Bibliographical  Curiosities.  —  Egyptian  Galleries. — 
A  Wealth  of  Antiquities.— Original  Magna  Charta.  —  Priceless  Manu- 
scripts   185-240 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

From  London  to  Paris.—  Grand  Hotels.  — The  Arch  of  Triumph.  —  Paris  by 
Gaslight. —  Site  of  the  Guillotine.  — Improvements  in  Paris.  —  The  Bastile. 

—  The  Old  Guard.  — The  Louvre.  —  Gallery  of  Masterpieces. —  Relics  of  Na- 
poleon I.  — Palais  Royal. —  Jewelry.  — French  Funeral.  —  Pere  La  Chaise.— 
Millions  in  Marble.—  Tomb  of  Bonaparte. —  Versailles.  —Halls  of  the  Cru- 


CONTENTS.  VU 

sades.  —  Gallery  of  the  Empire.  —  Gallery  of  Battles.  —  Theatre  in  the  Pal- 
ace.—  Fountains  at  Versailles.  — Notre  Dame.  —  Sainte  Chapelle. —  The 
Madeleine. —  The  Pantheon.  —  Les  Champs  Elysees. —  Cafes  Chantauts.  — 
The  Jardin  Mabille.  —  The  Luxembourg.  —  Palace  of  St.  Cloud. —  Shops  in 
Paris.  —  Bargains 246-309 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Good  by  to  Paris.— Church  of  St.  Gudule.  —  Field  of  Waterloo.  — Brussels 
Lace.  —  Antwerp.  —  The  Cathedral  Spire.  — Dusseldorf.  —  Cologne  Cathe- 
dral.—Riches  of  the  Church.  —  Up  the  Rhine.—  Bridge  of  Boats.  —  Cob- 
lentz  and  Ehrenbreitstein.  — Stolzenfels.  —  Legendary  Castles.  —  Bingen  on 
the  Rhine. —  Roman  Remains.  —  Mayence.  — Wiesbaden. —  Gambling  Halls. 

—  Frankfort-on-the-Main.  —  Heidelberg  Castle.  —  The  Great  Tun.  —  The 
King's  Scat.  — Baden-Baden. —  Sabbath  Amusement.  —  Satan's  Snare  baited. 

—  Among  the  Gamblers. —  Scene  at  the  Table.  —  Strasburg  Cathedral. — 
Strasburg  Clock. —  Clock  at  Basle.  —  Swiss  Railways.— Travelling  in  Swit- 
zerland. —  Zurich  and  its  Scenery 309-.'!75 

CHAPTER    X. 

The  Righi. —  Guides  and  Alpenstocks.  —  Climbing  the  Alps.  —  Night  on  the 
Mountain  Top.  —  The  Yodlyn.  —  Lucerne.  —  Wonderful  Organ  Playing.  —  A 
Sail  on  Lake  Lucerne. —  Scene  of  Toll's  Archery.  —  The  St.  Gothard  Pass. 

—  The  Devil's  Bridge.— The  Brunig  Pass.  —  A  Valley  of  Beauty.  —  Inter- 
laken.  —  Staubbach  Waterfall. — Glaciers  and  Avalanches.  —  An  Illuminated 
Waterfall.  —  Berne.  — The  Freiburg  Organ.  —  Lake  Leman.  —  The  Prison  of 
Chillon.  —  Geneva.  —  Swiss  Washerwomen. —  Glaciers  by  Moonlight.  —  Sun- 
rise on  Mont  Blanc.  —  Valley  of  Chamouny.  —  View  from  Flegere.  —  Climb- 
ing again.  —  Crossing  the  Sea  of  Ice.  —  The  Mauvais  Pass.  —  Under  a  Gla- 
cier. —  The  Tete  Noir  Pass.  —  Italian  Post  Drivers. —  The  Rhone  Valley.— 
Simplon  Pass.  —  Gorge  of  Gondo.  — Frcssinone  Waterfall.  —  Domo  d'Os- 
Bola.  —  An  Italian  Inn.  —  Lake  Maggiore.  —  Milan  Cathedral.  —  A  Wonderful 
Statue.  —  Death  and  Dross.  — The  La  Scala  Theatre. —  Lake  Como.  —  Italian 
Monks.  —  Madesimo  Waterfall 37G-450 


CHAPTER    XI. 

The  SplUgen  Pass.  — The  Via  Mala.  —  Tamina  Gorge.  — Falls  of  Schaffhau- 
sen.  —  Munich.  —  Galleries  of  Paintings.  —  Grecian  Sculpture  restored.  —  A 
Bronze  Giant.  — Hall  of  the  Colossi. —  The  Palace. —Basilica  of  St.  Boni- 
face. —  Salzburg.  — Aquarial  Wonders.  —  Visiting  Lilliput.  — Vienna.  —  Judg- 
ing by  Appearances.  -  -  Royal  Regalia.  —  Cabinet  of  Minerals.  —  The  Ambras 
Museum 450-175 


V1U  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XII. 

Superb  Mausoleum.  —  The  Strauss  Band.  —  Summer  Palace.  —  Imperial  Gal- 
lery. —  Vienna  Leather  Work.  —  Shops  and  Prices.  —  The  Cave  of  Adelsberg. 
— Underground  Wonders.  — Nature's  Imitation  of  Art 476-487 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

Venice.  — Gondolas  and  Gondoliers.  —  Shylock.—  The  Eialto.  — The  Giant's 

Staircase.  —  The  Lion's  Mouth.  —  Terrible  Dungeons Square  of  St.  Mark. — 

The  Bronze  Horses.— Church  of  St.  Mark. — Titian's  Monument.  —  Canova's 
Monument.— Cathedrals  and  Pictures.  — Florence. —  Art  in  the  Streets. — 
The  Uffizi  Gallery.  —Old  Masters  in  Battalions.  — Hall  of  Niobe.  —  Cabinet 
of  Gems. — Michael  Angelo's  House.  —  The  Duomo. —  The  Campanile.— 
Church  of  Santa  Croce.  —  Michael  Angelo's  Statuary.  —  Florentine  Mosaics. 
—  Medicean  Chapel.  —  Pitti  Palace.  — Halls  of  the  Gods.  —  The  Cascine. — 
Powers,  the  Sculptor 487-530 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Tower  of  Pisa.  —  The  Duomo. —  Galileo's  Lamp.  —  The  Baptistery.  —  Campo 
Santo. — Over  the  Apennines.  —  Genoa. —  Streets  of  Genoa.  —  Pallavicini 
Gardens.  —  Water  Jokes.  —  Turin  to  Susa.  —  Mt.  Cenis  Pass.  —  Paris  again. 
— Down  in  the  Sewers 531-548 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Sic  transit.  —  English  Rudeness. — Wonders  of  London.  —  Looking  towards 
Home.  —  Last  Purchases.  —  English  Conservatism.  —  Reunion  of  Tourists. 
—  All  aboard.  —  Home  again 549-558 


OVER    THE   OCEAN. 


CHAPTER    I. 


Do  you  remember,  dear  reader,  when  you  were  a  young- 
ster, and  studied  a  geography  with  pictures  in  it,  or  a  "  First " 
or  "  Second  "  Book  of  History,  and  wondered,  as  you  looked 
upon  the  wood-cuts  in  them,  if  you  should  ever  see  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral,  or  Westminster  Abbey,  or  London  Bridge,  or  go 
to  the  Tower  of  London,  and  into  the  very  room  in  which  the 
poor  little  princes  were  smothered  by  the  order  of  their  cruel 
uncle  Richard,  by  the  two  rude  fellows  in  a  sort  of  undress 
armor  suit,  as  depicted  in  the  Child's  History  of  England,  or 
should  ever  see  the  Paris  you  had  heard  your  elders  talk  so 
much  of,  or  those  curious  old  Rhine  castles,  of  which  we  read 
so  many  startling  legends  of  robber  knights,  and  fair  ladies, 
and  tournaments,  and  gnomes,  and  enchanters?  What  a 
realm  of  enchantment  to  us,  story-book  readers,  was  beyond 
the  great  blue  ocean !  and  how  we  resolved,  when  we  grew 
to  be  a  man,  we  would  travel  all  over  the  world,  and  see  every 
thing,  and  buy  ever  so  many  curious  things  in  the  countries 
where  they  grew  or  were  made.  Even  that  compound  which 
produced  "the  finest  jet  black  ever  beheld,"  was  to  us  in- 
vested with  a  sort  of  poetic  interest  in  boyhood's  day,  for  the 
very  stone  jug  that  we  held  in  our  hand  had  come  from  Lon- 
don, —  "  97  High  Holborn,"  —  and  there  was  the  picture  of 
the  palatial-looking  factory  on  the- pink  label. 
1 


Z  GOING   ABROAD. 

LONDON !  There  was  something  sonorous  in  the  sound, 
and  something  solid  in  the  very  appearance  of  the  word  when 
written.  When  we  were  a  man,  didn't  we  mean  to  go  to 
London ! 

Years  added  to  youth  dissipated  many  of  these  air-built 
castles,  and  other  harriers  besides  the  watery  plain  intervene 
between  the  goal  of  one's  wishes,  and  Europe  looks  further 
away  than  ever.  "  Going  to  Europe !  Everybody  goes  to 
Europe  nowadays,"  says  a  friend.  True,  and  in  these  days 
of  steam  it  is  not  so  much  of  an  event  as  formerly ;  indeed, 
one  would  judge  so  from  many  of  his  countrymen  that  he 
meets  abroad,  who  make  him  blush  to  think  how  they  mis- 
represent Americans. 

The  Great  Expositions  at  London  and  Paris  drew  from  our 
shores  every  American  who  could  by  any  manner  of  means  or 
excuse  leave  business,  and  obtain  funds  sufficient  to  get  over 
and  back,  if  only  for  a  six  weeks'  visit.  The  Exposition 
brought  out  to  Paris  and  to  Europe,  among  the  swarm  of 
Americans  who  went  over,  many  such,  and  some  who  had 
scarcely  visited  beyond  the  confines  of  their  native  cities 
before  crossing  the  Atlantic.  These  people,  by  their  utter 
inexperience  as  travellers,  and  by  their  application  of  the  pre- 
cept inculcated  in  their  minds  that  money  would  answer  for 
brains,  was  a  substitute  for  experience,  and  the  only  passport 
that  would  be  required  anywhere  and  for  anything,  became  a 
source  of  mortification  to  their  countrymen,  easy  game  for 
swindling  landlords  and  sharp  shopkeepers,  and  rendered  all 
the  great  routes  of  travel  more  beset  with  extortions  and 
annoyances  than  ever  before. 

But  about  "going  to  Europe."  When  one  decides  to  start 
on  a  pleasure  trip  to  that  country  for  the  first  time,  how  many 
very  simple  things  he  wishes  to  know,  that  correspondents 
and  people  who  write  for  the  papers  have  never  said  anything 
about.  After  having  once  or  twice  gone  over  in  a  steamship, 
it  never  seems  to  occur  to  these  writers  that  anybody  else  will 
want  to  become  acquainted  with  the  little  minutiae  of  informa- 
tion respecting  life  on  board  ship  during  the  trip,  and  which 


WHAT   IT   COSTS.  3 

most  people  do  not  like  to  say  they  know  nothing  about ;  and 
novices,  therefore,  have  to  clumsily  learn  by  experience,  and 
sometimes  at  four  times  the  usual  cost. 

Speaking  of  cost,  let  me  say  that  this  is  a  matter  upon 
which  hardly  any  two  tourists  will  agree.  How  much  does  it 
cost  to  go  to  Europe  ?  Of  course  the  cost  is  varied  by  the  style 
of  living  and  the  thoroughness  with  which  one  sees  sights ; 
by  thoroughness  I  mean,  besides  expenditure  of  time,  the  use 
of  extra  shillings  "pour  boires"  and  the  skilful  dispensation 
of  extra  funds,  which  will  gain  admission  to  many  a  forbidden 
shrine,  insure  many  an  unexpected  comfort,  and  shorten  many 
a  weary  journey. 

There  is  one  popular  error  which  one  quickly  becomes  dis- 
abused of,  and  that  is,  that  everything  abroad  is  dirt  cheap, 
and  it  costs  a  mere  song  to  live.  Good  articles  always  bring 
good  prices.  Many  may  be  cheaper  than  at  home,  it  is  true, 
but  they  are  by  no  means  thrown  away,  and  good  living  in  Paris 
cannot  be  had,  as  some  suppose,  for  three  francs  a  day. 

If  one  is  going  abroad  for  pleasure,  and  has  a  taste  for 
travelling,  let  him  first  decide  what  countries  he  wishes  to 
visit,  the  routes  and  time  he  will  take,  and  then  from  ex- 
perienced tourists  ascertain  about  what  it  would  cost ;  after 
having  learned  this,  add  twenty  per  cent,  to  that  amount,  and 
he  will  be  safe. 

Safe  in  the  knowledge  that  you  have  enough ;  safe  in  being 
able  to  make  many  little  purchases  that  you  will  never  dream 
of  till  you  reach  Regent  Street,  the  Boulevards,  the  "  Piazza 
San  Marco,"  the  Florence  mosaic  stores,  or  the  Naples  coral 
shops.  Safe  in  making  little  side  excursions  to  noted  places 
that  you  will  find  on  your  route,  and  safe  from  the  annoying 
reflection  that  you  might  have  done  so  much  better,  and  seen 
so  much  more,  if  you  had  not  limited  the  expenditure  to  that 
very  amount  which  your  friend  said  would  take  you  through. 

These  remarks  of  course  apply  only  to  those  who  feel  that 
they  can  afford  but  a  fixed  sum  for  the  journey,  and  who 
ought  always  to  wait  till  they  can  allow  a  little  margin  to  the 
fixed  sum,  the  more  completely  to  enjoy  the  trip. 


4  HINTS   FOR  NEW   TOURISTS. 

I  have  seen  Americans  in  French  restaurants  actually  cat 
culating  up  the  price  of  a  dinner,  and  figuring  out  the  price 
of  exchange,  to  see  if  they  should  order  a  franc's  worth 
more  or  less.  We  may  judge  how  much  such  men's  enjoy- 
ment is  abridged. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  class  that  I  refer  to,  who  imagine 
that  money  will  pass  for  everything,  increase  the  cost  of 
travel  to  all,  by  their  paying  without  abatement  the  demands 
of  landlords  and  shopkeepers.  The  latter  class,  on  the  con- 
tinent, are  so  accustomed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  being 
"  beaten  down "  in  the  price,  that  it  has  now  come  to  be  a 
saying  among  them,  that  he  who  pays  what  is  at  first  de- 
manded must  be  a  fool  or  an  American.  In  Paris,  during 
the  Exposition,  green  Englishmen  and  freshly-arrived  Ameri- 
cans were  swindled  without  mercy.  The  jewelry  shops  of 
the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  the  Grand  Hotel,  the  shops  of  the  Palais 
Royal,  and  the  very  Boulevard  cafes  fleeced  men  unmercifully. 
The  entrance  of  an  American  into  a  French  store  was  always 
the  occasion  of  adding  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  per  cent. 
to  the  regular  price  of  the  goods.  It  was  a  rich  harvest  to 
the  cringing  crew,  who,  with  smirks,  shrugs,  bows,  and  par- 
donnez  mot's  in  the  oiliest  tones,  swindled  and  cheated  with- 
out mercy,  and  then,  over  their  half  franc's  worth  of  black 
coffee  at  the  restaurant,  or  glass  of  absinthe,  compared  notes 
with  each  other,  and  boasted,  not  how  much  trade  they  had 
secured  or  business  they  had  done,  but  how  much  beyond  the 
legitimate  price  they  had  got  from  the  foreign  purchaser, 
whom  they  laughed  at. 

All  the  guide-books  and  many  tourists  exclaim  against 
baggage,  and  urge  the  travelling  with  a  single  small  trunk, 
or,  as  they  call  it  in  England,  portmanteau.  This  is  very 
well  for  a  bachelor,  travelling  entirely  alone,  and  who  expects 
to  go  into  no  company,  and  will  save  much  time  and  expense 
at  railway  stations ;  but  there  is  some  comfort  in  having  ward- 
robe enough  and  some  space  for  small  purchases,  even  if  a 
little  extra  has  to  be  paid.  It  is  the  price  of  convenience  in 
one  respect,  although  the  continual  weighing  of  and  charging 


LIFE   ON   BOARD    SHIP.  0 

for  baggage  is  annoying  to  an  American,  who  is  unused  to 
that  sort  of  thing ;  and  one  very  curious  circumstance  is  dis- 
covered in  this  weighing,  no  two  scales  on  the  continent  give 
the  same  weight  of  the  same  luggage. 

Passage  tickets  from  America  to  Europe  it  is,  of  course, 
always  best  to  secure  some  time  in  advance,  and  a  previous 
visit  to  the  steamer  may  aid  the  fresh  tourist  in  getting  a 
"state-room  near  the  centre  of  the  ship,  near  the  cabin  stairs, 
and  one  having  a  dead-light,  all  of  which  are  desirable 
things. 

Have  some  old  clothes  to  wear  on  the  voyage ;  remember 
it  is  cold  at  sea  even  in  summer ;  and  carry,  besides  your  over- 
coat and  warm  under-clothing,  some  shawls  and  railway  rugs, 
the  latter  to  lie  round  on  deck  with  when  you  are  seasick. 

There  is  no  cure  for  seasickness ;  keep  on  deck,  and  take 
as  much  exercise  as  possible;  hot  drinks,  and  a  hot  water 
bottle  at  the  feet  are  reliefs. 

People's  appetites  come  to  them,  after  seasickness,  for  the 
most  unaccountable  things,  and  as  soon  as  the  patient  '  han- 
kers '  for  anything,  by  all  means  let  him  get  it,  if  it  is  to  be 
had  on  board ;  for  it  is  a  sure  sign  of  returning  vigor,  and  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  is  the  very  thing  that  will  bring  the 
sufferer  relief.  I  have  known  a  delicate  young  lady,  who  had 
been  unable  to  eat  anything  but  gruel  for  three  days,  sud- 
denly have  an  intense  longing  for  corned  beef  and  cabbage, 
and,  after  eating  heartily  of  it,  attend  her  meals  regularly 
the  remainder  of  the  voyage.  Some  make  no  effort  to  get 
well  from  port  to  port,  and  live  in  their  state-rooms  on  the 
various  little  messes  they  imagine  may  relieve  them,  and 
which  are  promptly  brought  either  by  the  stewardess  or  bed- 
room steward  of  the  section  of  state-rooms  they  occupy. 

The  tickets  on  the  Cunard  line  express,  or  did  express, 
that  the  amount  received  includes  "stewards'  fees;"  but  any 
one  who  wants  to  be  well  served  on  the  trip  will  find  that  a 
sovereign  to  the  table  steward,  and  one  to  the  bedroom  stew- 
ard,—  the  first  paid  the  last  day  before  reaching  port,  and  the 
second  by  instalments  of  half  to  commence  with,  and  half  just 


6  THE    STEWARDS. 

before  leaving, — will  have  a  marvellously  good  effect,  and  that 
it  is,  in  fact,  an  expected  fee.  If  it  is  your  first  voyage,  and 
you  expect  to  be  sick,  speak  to  the  state-room  steward,  who 
has  charge  of  the  room  you  occupy,  or  the  stewardess,  if  you 
have  a  lady  with  you ;  tell  him  you  shall  probably  need  his 
attention,  and  he  must  look  out  for  you ;  hand  him  half  a 
sovereign  and  your  card,  with  the  number  of  your  room,  and 
you  will  have  occasion  to  exjjerience  most  satisfactorily  the 
value  of  British  gold  before  the  voyage  is  over.  If  a  desirable 
seat  at  the  table  is  required  in  the  dining-saloon  —  that  is,  an 
outside  or  end  seat,  where  one  can  get  out  and  in  easily,  —  or 
at  the  table  at  which  the  captain  sometimes  presides,  a  simi- 
lar interview  with  the  saloon  steward,  a  day  or  two  before 
sailing,  may  acconrplish  it. 

Besides  these  stewards,  there  are  others,  who  are  known  as 
deck  stewards,  who  wait  upon  seasick  passengers,  who  lie 
about  the  decks  in  various  nooks,  in  pleasant  weather,  and 
who  have  their  meals  brought  to  them  by  these  attentive 
fellows  from  the  cabin  table.  It  is  one  phase  of  seasickness 
that  some  of  the  sufferers  get  well  enough  to  lie  languidly 
about  in  the  fresh,  bracing  air,  and  can  eat  certain  viands  they 
may  fancy  for  the  nonce,  but  upon  entering  the  enclosed 
saloon,  are  at  once,  from  the  confined  air  or  the  more  percep- 
tible motion  of  the  ship,  afflicted  with  a  most  irrepressible  and 
disagreeable  nausea. 

Well,  the  ticket  for  Liverpool  is  bought,  your  letter  of 
credit  prepared,  and  you  are  all  ready  for  your  first  trip  across 
the  water.  People  that  you  know,  who  have  been  often,  ask, 
in  a  nonchalant  style,  what  "  boat "  you  are  going  "  over  "  in ; 
you  thought  it  was  a  steamer,  and  the  easy  style  with  which 
they  talk  of  running  over  for  a  few  weeks,  or  should  have 
gone  this  month,  if  they  hadn't  been  so  busy,  or  they  shall 
probably  see  you  in  Vienna,  or  Rome,  or  St.  Petersburg,  causes 
you  to  think  that  this,  to  you,  tremendous  undertaking  of  a 
first  voyage  over  the  Atlantic  is  to  be  but  an  insignificant 
excursion,  after  all,  and  that  the  entire  romance  of  the  affair 
and  the  realizing  of  your  imagination  is  to  be  dissolved  like 


"WATER,   WATER   EVERYWHERE."  7 

one  of  youth's  castles  in  the  air.  So  it  seems  as  you  ride 
down  to  the  steamer,  get  on  board,  pushing  amid  the  croAvds 
of  passengers  and  leave-taking  friends ;  and  not  until  a  last, 
and  perhaps,  tearful  leave-taking,  and  when  the  vessel  fairly 
swings  out  into  the  stream,  and  you  respond  to  the  fluttering 
signal  of  dear  ones  on  shore,  till  rapid  receding  renders  face 
and  form  indistinguishable,  do  you  realize  that  you  are  fairly 
launched  on  the  great  ocean,  and  friends  and  home  are  left 
behind,  as  they  never  have  been  before. 

One's  first  experience  upon  the  great,  awful  Ocean  is  never 
to  be  forgotten.  My  esteem  for  that  great  navigator,  Christo- 
pher Columbus,  has  risen  one  hundred  per  cent,  since  I  have 
crossed  it,  to  think  of  the  amount  of  courage,  strength  of 
mind,  and  faith  it  must  have  required  to  sustain  him  in  his 
venturesome  voyage  in  the  frail  and  imperfect  crafts  which 
those  of  his  day  must  have  been. 

Two  days  out,  and  the  great  broad  sweep  of  the  Atlantic 
makes  its  influence  felt  upon  all  who  are  in  any  degree  sus- 
ceptible. To  the  landsman,  the  steamship  seems  to  have  a 
regular  gigantic  see-saw  motion,  very  much  like  that  of  the 
toy  ships  that  used  to  rise  and  fall  on  mimic  waves,  moved  by 
clock-work,  on  clocks  that  used  to  be  displayed  in  the  store 
windows  of  jewellers  and  fancy  dealers.  Now  the  bows  rise 
with  a  grand  sweep,  —  now  they  sink  again  as  the  vessel 
plunges  into  an  advancing  wave,  —  up  and  down,  up  and 
down,  and  forging  ahead  to  the  never-ceasing,  tremulous  jar 
of  the  machinery.  In  the  calmest  weather  there  is  always 
one  vast  swell,  and  when  wind  or  storm  prevails,  it  is  both 
grand  and  terrible. 

The  great,  vast  ocean  is  something  so  much  beyond  any- 
thing I  ever  imagined,  —  the  same  vast  expanse  of  dark-blue 
rolling  waves  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  —  day  after  day, 
day  after  day,  —  the  great  ship  a  mere  speck,  an  atom  in  the 
vast  circle  of  water,  —  water  everywhere.  The  very  wind 
sounds  differently  than  on  land ;  a  cheerful  breeze  is  like  the 
breath  of  a  giant,  and  a  playful  wave  will  send  a  dozen  hogs- 
heads of  water  over  the  lofty  bulwarks. 


8  LAND,    110 


t 


But  in  «a  stiff  breeze,  when  a  great  wave  strikes  like  an  iron 
avalanche  against  the  ship,  she  seems  to  pause  and  shudder, 
as  it  were,  beneath  the  blow ;  then,  gathering  strength  from 
the  unceasing  throb  of  the  mighty  power  within,  urges  her 
way  bravely  on,  while  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  as  the  ship 
sinks  in  the  watery  valleys,  you  see  the  great  black  tossing 
waves,  all  crested  with  spray  and  foam,  like  a  huge  squadron 
of  white-plumed  giant  cavalry.  The  spray  sometimes  flies 
high  over  the  smoke-stack,  and  a  dash  of  saline  drops,  coming 
fiercely  into  the  face,  feels  like  a  handful  of  pebbles.  A  look 
around  on  the  vast  expanse,  and  the  ship  which  at  the  pier 
seemed  so  huge,  so  strong,  so  unyielding,  becomes  an  atom  in 
comparison, — is  tossed,  like  a  mere  feather,  upon  old  Ocean's 
bosom ;  and  one  realizes  how  little  is  between  him  and  eter- 
nity. There  seem  to  be  no  places  that  to  my  mind  bring  man 
so  sensibly  into  the  presence  of  Almighty  God  as  in  the  midst 
of  the  ocean  during  a  storm,  or  amid  the  grand  and  lofty  peaks 
of  the  AIjds  ;  all  other  feelings  are  swallowed  up  in  the  mute 
acknowledgment  of  God's  majesty  and  man's  insignificance. 

If  ever  twelve  days  seem  long  to  a  man,  it  is  during  his 
first  voyage  across  the  Atlantic ;  and  the  real  beauty  of  green 
grass  is  best  appreciated  by  seeing  it  on  the  shores  of  Queens- 
town  as  the  steamer  sails  into  Cork  harbor. 

Land  again !  Hoav  well  we  all  are !  A  sea  voyage,  —  it  is 
nothing.  Every  one  who  is  going  ashore  here  is  in  the  bustle 
of  preparation. 

We  agree  to  meet  A  and  party  in  London ;  we  will  call  on 
B  in  Paris,  —  yes,  we  shall  come  across  C  in  Switzerland. 
How  glib  we  are  talking  of  the  old  country  !  for  here  it  is,  — 
nw  three  thousand  miles  of  ocean  to  cross  now.  A  clear, 
bright  Sunday  morning,  and  we  are  going  ashore  in  the  little 
tui?  which  we  can  see  fuming  down  the  harbor  to  meet  us. 

We  part  with  companions  with  a  feeling  of  regret.  Seated 
on  the  deck  of  the  little  tug,  the  steamer  again  looms  up, 
huge  and  gigantic,  and  we  wonder  that  the  ocean  could  have 
so  tossed  her  about.  But  the  bell  rings,  the  ropes  are  cast 
off,  the  tug  steams  away,  our  late  companions  give  us  three 


EXAMINING   LUGGAGE.  9 

parting  cheers,  and  we  respond  as  the  distance  rapidly  widens 
between  us. 

Custom-house  officials  examine  your  luggage  on  the  tug. 
American  tourists  have  but  very  little  trouble,  and  the  in- 
vestigation is  slight ;  cigars  and  fire-arms  not  forming  a 
prominent  feature  in  your  luggage,  but  little,  if  any,  incon- 
venience may  be  anticipated. 

This  ordeal  of  the  custom-house  constitutes  one  of  the 
most  terrible  bugbears  of  the  inexperienced  traveller.  It  is 
the  common  opinion  that  an  inspection  of  your  baggage  means 
a  general  and  reckless  overhauling  of  the  personal  property 
*n  your  trunks  —  a  disclosiu*e  of  the  secrets  of  the  toilet,  per- 
haps of  the  meagreness  of  your  wardrobe,  and  a  laying  of 
profane  hands  on  things  held  especially  sacred.  Ladies  natu- 
rally dread  this  experience,  and  gentlemen,  too,  who  have 
been  foolish  enough  to  stow  away  some  little  articles  that 
custom-house  regulations  have  placed  under  the  ban.  But 
the  examination  is  really  a  very  trifling  affair ;  it  is  conducted 
courteously  and  rapidly,  and  the  traveller  laughs  to  himself 
about  his  unfounded  apprehensions. 

The  tug  is  at  the  wharf;  the  very  earth  has  a  pleasant 
smell ;  let  us  get  on  terra  firma.  Now,  then,  a  landsman 
finds  out,  after  his  first  voyage,  what  "  sea  legs  "  on  and  sea 
legs  off,  that  he  has  read  of  so  much  in  books,  mean. 

He  cannot  get  used  to  the  steadiness  of  the  ground,  or 
rather,  get  at  once  rid  of  the  unsteadiness  of  the  ship.  I 
found  myself  reeling  from  side  to  side  on  the  sidewalk,  and 
on  entering  the  Queen's  Hotel,  holding  on  to  a  desk  with  one 
hand,  to  steady  myself,  while  I  wrote  with  the  other.  The  roll- 
ing motion  of  the  ship,  to  which  you  have  become  accustomed, 
is  once  more  perceptible ;  and  I  knew  one  friend,  who  did  not 
have  a  sick  day  on  board  ship,  who  was  taken  landsick  two 
hours  after  stepping  on  shore,  and  had  as  thorough  a  casting 
up  of  accounts  for  an  hour  as  any  of  us  experienced  on  the 
steamer  at  sea.  The  Cunard  steamers  generally  arrive  at,  or 
used  to  arrive  at,  Queenstown  on  Sunday  mornings,  and  all 
who  land  are  eager  to  get  breakfast  ashore.     We  tried  the 


10  SCENES   ON   SHORE. 

Queen's  Hotel,  where  we  got  a  very  fair  breakfast,  and  were 
charged  six  or  eight  shillings  for  the  privilege  of  the  ladies 
sitting  in  a  room  till  the  meal  was  ready  for  us  —  the  first,  and 
I  think  the  only,  positive  swindle  I  experienced  in  Ireland. 
After  breakfast  the  first  ride  on  an  English  (or  rather  Irish) 
railway  ti-ain  took  us  to  Cork.  The  road  was  through  a 
lovely  country,  and,  although  it  was  the  first  of  May,  green 
with  verdure  as  with  us  in  June  —  no  harsh  New  England 
east  winds ;  and  one  can  easily  see  in  this  country  how  May- 
day came  to  be  celebrated  with  May-queens,  dances,  and 
May-poles. 

To  us,  just  landed  from  the  close  steamer,  how  grateful  was 
the  fragrance  of  the  fresh  earth,  the  newly-blossomed  trees,  and 
the  hedges  all  alive  with  twittering  sparrows  !  The  country 
roads  were  smooth,  hard,  and  clear  as  a  ball-room  floor ;  the 
greensward,  fresh  and  bright,  rolled  up  in  luxuriant  waves  to 
the  very  foot  of  the  great  brown-trunked  trees ;  chapel  bells 
were  tolling,  and  we  saw  the  Irish  peasantry  trudging  along 
to  church,  for  all  the  world  as  though  they  had  just  stepped 
out  of  the  pictures  in  the  story-books.  There  were  the  women 
with  blue-gray  cloaks,  with  hoods  at  the  back,  and  broad  white 
caps,  men  in  short  corduroys,  brogues,  bobtail  coats,  caubeens 
and  shillalah ;  then  there  was  an  occasional  little  tip-cart  of 
the  costermonger  and  his  wife,  drawn  by  a  donkey;  the  jaunt- 
ing-car, with  half  a  dozen  merry  occupants,  all  forming  the 
moving  figures  in  the  rich  landscape  of  living  green  in  her- 
bage, and  the  soft  brown  of  the  half  moss-covered  stone 
walls,  or  the  corrugated  stems  of  the  great  trees. 

"We  were  on  shore  again ;  once  more  upon  a  footing  that 
did  not  slide  from  beneath  the  very  step,  and  the  never-ending 
broad  expanse  of  heaving  blue  was  exchanged  for  the  more 
grateful  scene  of  pleasant  fields  and  waving  trees ;  the  suffer- 
ings of  a  first  voyage  had  already  begun  to  five  in  remem- 
brance only  as  a  hideous  nightmare. 

A  good  hotel  at  Cork  is  the  Imperial  Hotel ;  the  attend- 
ance prompt,  the  chamber  linen  fresh  and  clean,  the  viands 
well  prepared. 


TIIE    EMERALD    ISLE.  11 

The  scenery  around  Cork  is  very  beautiful,  especially  on 
the  eastern  side,  on  what  is  known  as  the  upper  and  lower 
Glanraere  roads,  which  command  fine  views.  The  principal 
promenade  is  a  fine  raised  avenue,  or  walk,  over  a  mile  in 
length,  extending  through  the  meadows  midway  between  two 
branches  of  the  River  Lee,  and  shaded  by  a  double  row  of 
lofty  and  flourishing  elms. 

Our  first  walk  in  Ireland  was  from  the  Imperial  Hotel  to 
the  Mardyke.  Fifteen  minutes  brought  us  to  the  River  Lee ; 
and  now,  with  the  city  proper  behind  us,  did  we  enjoy  the 
lovely  scene  spread  out  to  view. 

In  the  month  of  May  one  realizes  why  Ireland  is  called  the 
Emerald  Isle  —  such  lovely  green  turf,  thick,  luxurious,  and 
velvety  to  the  tread,  and  so  lively  a  green ;  fancy  New  Eng- 
land grass  varnished  and  polished,  and  you  have  it.  The 
shade  trees  were  all  in  full  leaf,  the  fruit  trees  in  full  flower ; 
sheep  and  lambs  gamboling  upon  the  greensward,  birds  piping 
in  the  hedges,  and  such  hedges,  and  laburnums,  and  clamber- 
ing ivy,  and  hawthorn,  the  air  perfumed  with  blossoms,  the 
blue  sky  in  the  background  pierced  by  the  turrets  of  an  old 
edifice  surrounded  by  tall  trees,  round  which  wheeled  circles 
of  cawing  rooks ;  the  little  cottages  we  passed,  half  shrouded 
in  beautiful  clambering  Irish  ivy,  that  was  peopled  by  the 
nests  of  the  brisk  little  sparrows,  filling  the  air  with  their  twit- 
terings; the  soft  spring  breeze,  and  the  beautiful  reach  of 
landscape  —  all  seemed  a  realization  of  some  of  those  scenes' 
that  poets  write  of,  and  which  we  sometimes  fancy  owe  their 
existence  to  the  luxuriance  of  imagination. 

Returning,  we  passed  through  another  portion  of  the  city, 
which  gave  us  a  somewhat  different  view ;  it  was  nearly  a 
mile  of  Irish  cabins.  Of  course  one  prominent  feature  was 
dirt,  and  we  witnessed  Pat  in  all  his  national  glory.  A  newly- 
arrived  American  cannot  help  noticing  the  deference  paid  to 
caste  and  position ;  we,  who  treat  Irish  servants  and  laborers 
so  well  as  we  do,  are  surprised  to  see  how  much  better  they 
treat  their  employers  in  Ireland,  and  how  little  kind  treat- 
ment the  working  class  receive  from  those  immediately  above 
them. 


12  PAT   AT   HOME. 

The  civil  and  deferential  Pat  who  steps  aside  for  a  well- 
dressed  couple  to  pass,  and  touches  his  hat,  in  Cork,  is  vastly- 
different  from  the  independent,  voting  Pat  that  elbows  you  off 
the  sidewalk,  or  puffs  his  fragrant  pipe  into  your  very  face  in 
America.  In  Ireland  he  accepts  a  shilling  with  gratitude, 
and  invocation  of  blessings  on  the  donor;  in  America  he 
condescends  to  receive  two  dollars  a  day !  A  fellow-passen- 
ger  remarked  that  in  the  old  country  they  were  a  race  of 

Touch-hats,  in  the  new  one  of  Go  to .    I  found  them  here 

obliging  and  civil,  ready  to  earn  an  honest  penny,  and  grate- 
ful for  it,  and  much  more  inclined  to  "  blarney  "  a  little  extra 
from  the  traveller  than  to  swindle  it  out  of  him. 

I  made  an  arrangement  with  a  lively  driver  to  take  us  to 
the  celebrated  Blarney  Castle  in  a  jaunting-car  —  a  delightful 
vehicle  to  ride  in  of  a  pleasant  spring  day,  as  it  was  on  that 
of  our  excursion.  The  cars  for  these  rides  are  hung  on  springs, 
are  nicely  cushioned,  and  the  four  passengers  sit  back  to  back, 
facing  to  the  side;  and  there  being  no  cover  or  top  to  the 
vehicle,  there  is  every  opportunity  of  seeing  the  passing 
landscape. 

No  American  who  has  been  interested  in  the  beautiful 
descriptions  of  English  and  Irish  scenery  by  the  British  poets 
can  realize  their  truthfulness  until  he  looks  upon  it,  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  scenery,  and  the  very  climate,  are  so  dif- 
ferent from  our  own.  The  ride  to  Blarney  Castle  is  a  delight- 
fully romantic  one,  of  about  six  miles;  the  road,  which  is 
smooth,  hard,  and  kept  in  excellent  order,  winds  upon  a  side 
hill  of  the  River  Lee,  which  you  see  continually  flashing  in  and 
out  in  its  course  through  the  valley  below;  every  inch  of 
ground  appears  to  be  beautifully  cultivated.  The  road  is 
lined  with  old  brown  stone  walls,  clad  with  ivy  of  every 
variety  —  dark-green,  polished  leaf,  Irish  ivy,  small  leaf,  heart 
leaf,  broad  leaf,  and  lance  leaf,  such  as  we  see  cultivated  in 
pots  and  green-houses  at  home,  was  here  flourishing  in  wild 
luxuriance. 

The  climate  here  is  so  moist  that  every  rock  and  stone 
fence  is  clad  with  some  kind  of  verdure ;  the  whole  seems  to 


BLARNEY   CASTLE.  13 

satisfy  the  eye.  The  old  trees  are  circled  round  and  round  in 
the  ivy  clasp ;  the  hedges  are  in  their  light-green  livery  of 
spring;  there  are  long  reaches  of  pretty  rustic  lanes,  with 
fresh  green  turf  underneath  grand  old  trees,  and  there  are 
whole  banks  of  violets  and  primroses  —  yes,  whole  banks  of 
such  pretty,  yellow  primroses  as  we  preserve  singly  in  pots 
at  home. 

There  are  grand  entrances  to  avenues  leading  up  to  stately 
estates,  pretty  ivy-clad  cottages,  peasants'  miserable,  thatched 
cabins,  great  sweeps  of  green  meadow,  and  the  fields  and 
woods  are  perfectly  musical  with  singing  birds,  so  unlike 
America:  there  ai-e  linnets,  that  pipe  beautifully;  finches, 
thrushes,  and  others,  that  fill  the  air  with  their  warblings ; 
skylarks,  that  rise  in  regular  circles  high  into  the  air,  singing 
beautifully,  till  lost  to  vision ;  rooks,  that  caw  solemnly,  and 
gather  in  conclaves  on  trees  and  roofs.  Nature  seems  trying 
to  cover  the  poverty  and  squalor  that  disfigures  the  land  with 
a  mantle  of  her  own  luxuriance  and  beauty. 

Blarney  Castle  is  a  good  specimen  of  an  old  ruin  of  that 
description  for  the  newly-arrived  tourist  to  visit,  as  it  will 
come  up  to  his  expectation  in  many  respects,  in  appearance, 
as  to  what  he  imagined  a  ruined  castle  to  be,  from  books  and 
pictures.  It  is  a  fine  old  building,  clad  inside  and  out  with 
ivy,  situated  near  a  river  of  the  same  name,  and  on  a  high 
limestone  rock;  it  was  built  in  the  year  1300.  In  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth  it  was  the  strongest  fortress  in  Monster,  and  at 
different  periods  has  withstood  regular  sieges ;  it  was  de- 
molished, all  but  the  central  tower,  in  the  year  1646. 

The  celebrated  Blarney  Stone  is  about  two  feet  below  the 
summit  of  the  tower,  and  held  in  its  place  by  iron  stan- 
chions ;  and  as  one  is  obliged  to  lie  at  full  length,  and  stretch 
over  the  verge  of  the  parapet,  having  a  friend  to  hold  upon 
your  lower  limbs,  for  fear  an  accidental  slip  or  giddiness 
may  send  you  a  hundred  feet  below,  it  may  be  imagined  that 
the  act  of  kissing  the  Blarney  Stone  is  not  without  its  perils. 
However,  that  duty  performed,  and  a  charming  view  enjoyed 
of  the  rich  uodulating  country  from  the  summit,  and  inspeo- 


14  DUBLIN". 

lion  made  of  some  of  the  odd  little  turret  chambers  of  the 
tower,  and  loopholes  for  archery,  we  descended,  gratified  the 
old  woman  who  acts  as  key-bearer  by  crossing  her  palm  with 
silver,  strolled  amid  the  beautiful  groves  of  Blarney  for  a 
brief  period,  and  finally  rattled  off  again  in  our  jaunting-cars 
over  the  romantic  road. 

The  Shelborne  House,  Dublin,  is  a  hotel  after  the  American 
style,  a  good  Fifth  Avenue  sort  of  affair,  clean,  and  well  kept, 
and  opposite  a  beautiful  park  (Stephens  Green).  Americans 
will  find  this  to  be  a  house  that  will  suit  their  tastes  and 
desires  as  well,  if  not  better,  than  any  other  in  Dublin.  Sack- 
ville  Street,  in  Dublin,  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  finest  streets  in 
Europe.  I  cannot  agree  with  the  guide-books  in  this  opinion, 
although,  standing  on  Carlisle  Bridge,  and  looking  down  this 
broad  avenue,  with  the  Nelson  Monument,  one  hundred  and 
ten  feet  in  height,  in  the  centre,  and  its  stately  stores  on  each 
side,  it  certainly  has  a  very  fine  appearance.  Here  I  first 
visited  shops  on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  and  the  very 
first  thing  that  strikes  an  American  is  the  promptness  with 
which  he  is  served,  the  civility  with  which  he  is  treated,  the 
immense  assortment  and  variety  of  goods,  and  the  effort  of 
the  salesmen  to  do  everything  to  accommodate  the  purchaser. 
They  seem  to  say,  by  their  actions,  "We  are  put  here  to  attend 
to  buyers'  wants ;  to  serve  them,  to  wait  upon  them,  to  make 
the  goods  and  the  establishment  attractive ;  to  sell  goods, 
and  we  want  to  sell  goods."  On  the  other  hand,  in  our  own 
country  the  style  and  manner  of  the  clerks  is  too  often  that 
of  "I'm  just  as  good,  and  a  little  better,  than  you  —  buy,  if 
you  want,  or  leave  —  we  don't  care  whether  we  sell  or  not  — 
it's  a  condescension  to  inform  you  of  our  prices ;  don't  expect 
any  attention." 

The  variety  of  goods  in  the  foreign  shops  is  marvellous  to 
an  American ;  one  pattern  or  color  not  suiting,  dozens  of  others 
are  shown,  or  anything  will  be  made  at  a  few  hours'  notice. 

Here  in  Dublin  are  the  great  Irish  poplin  manufactures ; 
and  in  these  days  of  high  prices,  hardly  any  American  lady 
leaves  Dublin  without  a  dress  pattern,  at  least,  of  this  elegant 


SHOPPING   FACILITIES.  15 

material,  which  can  be  obtained  in  the  original  packages  of 
the  "  Original  Jacobs  "  of  the  trade,  Richard  Atkinson,  in  Col- 
lege Green,  whose  front  store  is  a  gallery  of  medals  and  ap- 
pointments, as  poplin  manufacturer  to  members  of  royal 
families  for  years  and  years.  The  ladies  of  my  party  were 
crazy  with  delight  over  the  exquisite  hues,  the  splendid  qual- 
ity, the  low  prices  —  forgetting,  dear  creatures,  the  difference 
of  exchange,  and  the  then  existing  premium  on  gold,  and  six- 
ty per  cent,  duty  that  had  to  be  added  to  the  rate  before  the 
goods  were  paid  for  in  America.  Notwithstanding  the  stock, 
the  hue  to  match  the  pattern  a  lady  had  in  her  pocket  was  not 
to  be  had. 

"  We  can  make  you  a  dress,  if  you  can  wait,  madam,"  said 
the  polite  shopman,  "  of  exactly  the  same  color  as  your  sample." 

"  How  long  will  it  take  to  make  it  ?  " 

"  We  can  deliver  it  to  you  in  eight  or  ten  days." 

"  O,  I  shall  be  in  London  then,"  said  the  lady. 

"  That  makes  no  difference,  madam.  We  will  deliver  it  to 
you  anywhere  in  London,  carriage  free." 

And  so,  indeed,  it  was  delivered.  The  order  was  left,  sent 
to  the  factory  by  the  shopman,  and  at  the  appointed  time 
delivered  in  London,  the  lady  paying  on  delivery  the  same 
rate  as  charged  for  similar  quality  of  goods  at  the  store  in 
Dublin,  and  having  the  enviable  satisfaction  of  showing  the 
double  poplin  that  was  "made  expressly  to  her  order"  —  one 
dress  pattern  —  "in  Dublin." 

I  mention  this  transaction  to  show  what  pains  are  taken  to 
suit  the  purchaser,  and  how  any  one  can  get  what  he  wants 
abroad,  if  he  has  the  means  to  pay. 

This  is  owing  chiefly  to  the  different  way  of  doing  business, 
and  also  to  the  sharper  competition  in  the  old  countries.  For 
instance,  the  Pacific  Mills,  of  Lawrence,  Mass.,  would  never 
think  of  opening  a  retail  store  for  the  sale  of  their  goods  on 
Washington  Street,  Boston ;  and  if  an  English  lady  failed  to 
find  a  piece  of  goods  of  the  color  that  suited  her,  of  manu- 
facturing sixteen  or  eighteen  yards  to  her  order,  and  then 
sending  it,  free  of  express  charge,  to  New  York. 


16  DUBLIN   CASTLE. 

The  quantity  and  variety  of  goods  on  hand  are  overwhelm- 
ing ;  the  prices,  in  comparison  with  ours,  so  very  low  that  I 
wanted  to  buy  a  ship-load.  Whole  stores  are  devoted  to  spe- 
cialities —  the  beautiful  Irish  linen  in  every  variety,  Irish  bog- 
wood  carving  in  every  conceivable  form,  bracelets,  rings, 
figures,  necklaces,  breast-pins,  &c.  I  visited  one  large  establish- 
ment, where  every  species  of  dry  goods,  fancy  goods,  haber- 
dashery, and,  I  think,  everything  except  eatables,  were  sold. 
Three  hundred  and  fifty  salesmen  were  employed,  the  pro- 
prietors boarding  and  lodging  a  large  number  of  them  on  the 
premises. 

The  shops  in  Dublin  are  very  fine,  the  prices  lower  than  in 
London,  and  the  attendance  excellent. 

"  But  Dublin  —  are  you  going  to  describe  Dublin  ?  " 

Not  much,  dear  reader.  Describing  cities  would  only  be 
copying  the  guide-book,  or  doing  what  every  newspaper  cor- 
respondent thinks  it  necessary  to  do.  Now,  if  I  can  think  of 
a  few  unconsidered  trifles,  which  correspondents  do  not  write 
about,  but  which  tourists,  on  their  first  visit,  always  wish  in- 
formation about,  I  shall  think  it  doing  a  service  to  present 
them  in  these  sketches. 

The  Nelson  Monument,  a  Doric  column  of  one  hundred  and 
ten  feet  high,  upon  which  is  a  statue  eleven  feet  high  of  the 
hero  of  the  Nile,  always  attracts  the  attention  of  visitors. 
The  great  bridges  over  the  Liffey,  and  the  quays,  are  splendid 
pieces  of  workmanship,  and  worth  inspection,  and  of  course 
you  will  go  to  see  Dublin  Castle. 

This  castle  was  originally  built  by  order  of  King  John, 
about  the  year  1215.  But  little  of  it  remains  now,  however, 
except  what  is  known  as  the  Wardrobe  Tower,  all  the  pres- 
ent structure  having  been  built  since  the  seventeenth  century. 
Passing  in  through  the  great  castle  court-yard,  a  ring  at  a  side 
door  brought  a  courteous  English  housekeeper,  who  showed 
us  through  the  state  apartments.  Among  the  most  note-wor- 
thy of  these  was  the  presence-chamber,  in  which  is  a  richly- 
carved  and  ornamental  throne,  frescoed  ceilings,  richly-uphol- 
stered furniture,  &c,  the  whole  most  strikingly  reminding  one 


st.  Patrick's  cathedral.  17 

of  those  scenes  at  the  theatre,  where  the  "  duke  and  attend- 
ants," or  the  "king  and  courtiers,"  come  on.  It  is  here  the 
lord  lieutenant  holds  his  receptions,  and  where  individuals  arc 
"  presented "  to  him  as  the  rej>resentative  of  royalty.  The 
great  ball-room  is  magnificent.  It  is  eighty-two  feet  long,  and 
forty-one  wide,  and  thirty-eight  in  height,  the  ceiling  being 
decorated  with  beautiful  paintings.  One  represents  George 
III.,  supported  by  Liberty  and  Justice,  another  the  Con- 
version of  the  Irish  by  St.  Patrick,  and  the  third,  a  very  spir- 
ited one,  Henry  II.  receiving  the  Submission  of  the  Native 
Irish  Chiefs.  Henry  II.  held  his  first  court  in  Dublin  in 
1172. 

The  Chapel  Royal,  immediately  adjoining,  is  a  fine  Gothic 
edifice,  with  a  most  beautiful  interior,  the  ceiling  elegantly 
carved,  and  a  beautiful  stained-glass  window,  with  a  represen- 
tation of  Christ  before  Pilate,  figures  of  the  Evangelists,  &c. 
Here,  carved  and  displayed,  are  the  coats-of-arms  of  the  dif- 
ferent lord  lieutenants  from  the  year  1172  to  the  present  time. 
The  throne  of  the  lord  lieutenant  in  one  gallery,  and  that  for 
the  archbishop  opposite,  are  conspicuous.  This  edifice  was 
completed  in  1814,  and  cost  forty-two  thousand  pounds.  It 
was  the  first  Church  of  England  interior  I  had  seen  over  the 
ocean,  and  its  richness  and  beauty  Avere  impressive  at  the 
time,  but  were  almost  bleached  from  memory  by  the  grander 
temples  visited  a  few  weeks  after.  The  polite  housekeeper, 
whom,  in  my  inexperience,  I  felt  almost  ashamed  to  hand 
a  shilling  to,  took  it,  nevertheless,  very  gratefully,  and  in  a 
manner  that  proved  that  her  pride  was  not  at  all  wounded 
by  the  action. 

In  obedience  to  the  advice  of  an  Emeralder,  that  we  must 
not  "lave  Dublin  widout  seem'  St.  Patrick's  Church,"  we 
walked  down  to  that  celebrated  cathedral:  The  square  which 
surrounds  it  is  as  much  a  curiosity  in  its  way  as  the  cathedral 
itself.  The  whole  neighborhood  seemed  to  consist  of  the 
dirti?st,  quaintest  tumble-down  old'  houses  in  Dublin,  and 
swarmed  with  women  and  children. 

Hundreds  of  these  houses  seemed;  to  be  devoted  to  the  sale 
2 


18  CHEAP   JOHNS    PARADISE. 

of  old  junk,  sixth-hand  clothing,  and  fourth-hand  articles  of 
every  description  one  could  name  or  think  of : —  old  tin  pots 
and  kettles,  old  rope,  blacking-jugs,  old  bottles,  old  boots, 
shoes,  and  clothing  in  every  style  of  dilapidation  —  till  you 
could  scarcely  say  where  the  article  ended  being  sold  as  a 
coat,  and  became  rags  —  iron  hoops,  old  furniture,  nails,  old 
hats,  bonnets,  cracked  and  half-broken  crockery.  It  verily 
seemed  as  if  this  place  was  the  rag  fair  and  ash-heap  of  the 
whole  civilized  world.  The  contents  of  six  American  ash- 
barrels  would  have  given  any  one  of  these  Cheap  John  stores 
a  stock  that  would  have  dazzled  the  neighborhood  with  its 
magnificence. 

You  could  go  shopping  here  with  two-pence.  Costermon- 
gers'  carts,  with  their  donkeys  attached,  stood  at  the  curb- 
stones, ragged  and  half-starved  children  played  in  the  gutters, 
.great  coarse  women  stood  lazily  talking  with  each  other,  or 
were  crouched  over  a  heap  of  merchandise,  smoking  short 
pipes,  and  waiting  or  chaflering  with  purchasers.  Little  filthy 
shops  on  every  hand  dealt  out  Ireland's  curse  at  two-pence  a 
dram,  and  "  Gin,"  «  Choice  Spirits  Sold  Here,"  "  Whiskey," 
"  Spirits,"  were  signs  that  greeted  the  eye  on  their  door- 
posts. The  spring  breeze  was  tainted  with  foul  odors,  and 
there  was  a  busy  clatter  of  tongues  from  the  seething  and 
crowded  mass  of  humanity  that  surged  round  in  every  direc- 
tion. 

Upon  the  farther  corner  of  the  third  side  of  the  square, 
where  the  neighborhood  was  somewhat  better,  we  discovered 
the  residence  of  the  sexton  who  had  charge  of  the  church  — 
a  strong  Orangeman,  bitterly  opposed  to  the  Romish  church, 
and  with  a  strong  liking  for  America,  increased  by  the  fact  of 
having  a  brother  in  the  American  Union  army,  who  rose  from 
sergeant  to  colonel  in  one  of  the  western  regiments. 

"Think  o'  that,  sir!  Ye  might  be  as  brave  as  Julyus 
Sayzer  in  the  English  army,  and  sorra  a  rise  would  ye  get, 
except  ye'd  be  sated  on  a  powdher  magazine  whin  it  ex^ 
ploded." 

The  legend  is,  that  this  church  was  originally  built  by  St. 


PHOSNIX   PARK.  19 

Patrick,  and  the  sexton  took  me  into  a  little  old  crypt  at  the 
end  of  one  of  the  isles  of  the  nave  —  all  that  remains  of  that 
portion  of  the  church,  which  it  is  averred  was  built  A.  D.  540. 
This  crypt  was  floored  with  curious  old  tiles,  over  a  thousand 
years  old,  put  down  and  the  fragments  matched  together 
with  great  labor  and  expense,  and  the  flooring  worth  more 
money  than  a  covering  of  an  "  aven  layer  o'  guineas  "  upon  it. 

The  old  stone  font,  A.  D.  1190,  the  old  carved  chest  for  vest- 
ments, and  the  curious  stone  coffins,  relics  of  the  old  church, 
were  interesting.  Among  the  monuments  in  the  church, 
Archbishop  Whately's  magnificently-carved  marble  sarcopha- 
gus, surmounted  by  his  full-length  effigy,  was  particularly 
noticeable ;  Swift's  monument,  Stella's  tablet,  and  the  econom- 
ical tablet  put  up  in  memory  of  Duke  Schomberg  by  Swift. 

Here  in  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral  are  displayed  the  stalls, 
arms,  and  banners  of  the  Knights  of  St.  Patrick,  the  army 
"  memorials  "  of  the  India  and  China  British  regiments,  with 
the  flags  they  carried  from  1852  to  1857  in  their  campaigns. 
Upon  the  wall  was  suspended  the  cannon  shot  that  killed 
Schomberg  at  the  memorable  battle  of  the  Boyne  in  1690, 
and  the  spurs  that  he  wore  at  the  time.  Schomberg's  re- 
mains are  interred  at  Westminster  Abbey. 

My  first  ride  in  an  old  country  park  was  in  the  Phoenix 
Park,  Dublin  a  —  beautiful  pleasure-ground  of  over  eigh- 
teen hundred  acres  in  extent.  I  imagined  how  laughable 
it  must  have  seemed  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  when,  at  the 
review  he  attended  on  Boston  Common,  he  politely  assented 
to  the  remark  of  a  militia  officer,  that  "  this  great  area  "  (the 
Common  parade  ground)  "  was  well  adapted  for  displays  of 
large  bodies  of  troops,"  as  I  sat  looking  at  the  parade  ground 
of  this  park,  a  clear,  unbroken  greensward  of  six  times  the 
size. 

Think  of  riding  over  drives  or  malls  fifty  feet  wide,  and 
from  three  to  five  miles  in  length,  lined  with  gas-lights  to 
illuminate  it  at  night,  herds  of  hundreds  of  deer  sporting  on 
the  open  sward,  or  under  the  great,  sturdy  trees,  which  are 
grouped  in  twos,  threes,  or  clusters,  for  landscape  effect,  and 


20  ACROSS    THE   IKISEL   SEA. 

the  turf  beneath  them  thick,  green,  and  luxuriant ;  and  then, 
again,  there  are  rustic,  country-like  roads,  shady  dells,  and 
rustic  paths  in  the  beautiful  park ;  a  great  monument  erected 
to  Wellington  by  his  countrymen  at  a  cost  of  one  hundred 
thousand  pounds,  will  attract  attention,  and  so  will  the 
numerous  fashionable  turnouts  that  roll  over  the  well-kept 
roads  every  pleasant  spring  afternoon. 

From  Dublin  to  Kingston  is  a  pleasant  little  ride  by  rail. 
Kingston  is  on  St.  George's  Channel,  or  the  lower  part  of  the 
Irish  Sea,  and  directly  opposite  Holyhead,  Wales.  At 
Kingston  we  took  steamer  for  the  passage  across.  The 
steamers  of  this  line  carry  the  royal  mail,  are  built  for 
strength  and  speed,  and  are  splendid  boats,  of  immense 
power,  said  to  be  the  strongest  and  swiftest  in  Great  Britain, 
and  run  at  the  rate  of  sixteen  miles  an  hour.  Fortunately, 
the  passage  was  comparatively  a  smooth  one,  and  we  disem- 
barked in  good  condition  upon  the  opposite  shore,  where  we 
took  train  for  Chester.  An  English  railway  carriage  —  its 
form  is  familiar  to  all  from  frequent  description ;  but  think 
of  the  annoyance  of  having  to  look  after  your  luggage,  to  see 
it  safely  bestowed  on  the  top  of  the  car,  or  in  a  luggage  van, 
and  to  be  obliged  to  look  out  that  it  is  not  removed  by  mis- 
take at  any  of  the  great  stations  you  do  not  stop  at,  or  that 
it  is  removed  when  you  do  stop. 

A  few  words  on  railway  travelling  in  England :  it  differs 
from  ours  essentially.  First,  the  cars  on  English  roads  are 
not  so  convenient,  comfortable,  or  even  so  private  as  the 
American  car.  In  the  English  first-class  carriage,  four  per- 
sons must  sit  facing  four  persons ;  consequently  four  must 
perforce  ride  backwards,  and  the  four  are  placed  so  as  to 
stare  directly  at  their  opposite  neighbors,  —  sometimes  un- 
pleasant, if  all  are  not  acquainted,  especially  at  lunch  time, 
&c.  Then,  in  the  English  carriage,  four  persons  only  of  the 
eight  can  get  a  fair  view  of  the  scenery,  and  two  of  these  are 
riding  backwards.  These  four  "govern"  the  windows,  and 
lower  or  close  at  their  pleasure.  I  have  been  nearly  smoth- 
ered, as  well  as  thoroughly  chilled,  by  happening  to  have 


RAILROAD    TRAVELLING   IN   ENGLAND.  iil 

people  of  adverse  temperaments  get  the  window  scats,  till  I 
learned  how  to  travel  by  rail  in  England,  of  which,  hints  anon. 

There  are  no  means  of  heating  the  English  railway  car- 
riage, and  they  are  not  tightly  joined,  especially  the  second- 
class  ones.  Hence  the  "railway  rags,"  &c,  one  hears  so 
much  about.  But  then,  it  must  be  confessed,  the  danger  of 
the  American  stove  renders  it  a  rather  unpopular  affair.  The 
second-class  car  is  a  plain,  substantial  carriage,  and  the  larger 
portion  of  the  passengers  travel  in  it.  The  first-class  car  is 
more  luxurious,  upholstered  more  plentifully,  supplied  with 
racks  for  light  baggage,  and  curtains  at  the  windows.  The 
English  have  not  even  reached  the  improvement  of  the  slid- 
ing blind,  which  we  have  in  America,  so  useful  in  excluding 
the  sun's  rays  and  admitting  the  air,  the  substitute  being  a 
flapping  silk  curtain.  The  second-class  car  has  no  curtain  or 
shade  to  the  window  whatever.  The  absence  of  the  signal 
rope  is  noticeable,  and  no  man  nowadays  will  remain  in  an 
English  railway  carriage,  if  one  or  two  other  men  come  in 
that  he  does  not  know.  Is  it  not  singular  that  so  simple  an 
arrangement  as  the  signal  rope  to  the  engine  driver  should 
not  have  been  applied,  after  all  the  murders,  and  assaults, 
and  casualties,  that  have  occurred  on  English  railway  trains, 
and  proved  its  necessity  ? 

Not  at  all.  It  is  an  American  invention  —  a  novelty.  An 
Englishman  does  not  believe  in  novelties,  in  innovations,  or 
in  American  inventions.  After  he  has  tried  every  other 
thing  he  can  think  of  as  a  sxibstitute,  and  finds  he  can  get 
nothing  so  simple  and  effectual,  he  will  adopt  it ;  and  then  it 
will  be  claimed  as  an  English  invention  —  invented  by  an 
Englishman;  just  as  they  claim  the  invention  of  the  revolver, 
steamboat,  and  I  don't  know  but  the  sewing-machine. 

The  English  locomotives  have  no  protection  upon  them 
for  the  engine-driver  and  fireman.  These  men  are  exposed, 
without  shelter,  and  must  have  a  rough  time  of  it  in  bad 
weather.  The  "  guard,"  who  occupies  the  place  of  the  Amer- 
ican conductor,  but  by  no  means  fills  it,  is  always  recognizable 
by  his  uniform ;  and  at  the  stations,  the  numerous  porters 


22  GUARD    VS.   CONDUCTOR. 

which  it  is  necessary  for  the  company  to  employ  to  handle 
baggage,  owing  to  the  absence  of  the  check  system,  are  also 
in  uniform.  These  men  are  invariably  civil,  ready  to  serve, 
and  understand  their  position  and  duties  thoroughly. 

On  some  of  the  English  railroads  that  I  travelled  over,  it 
seemed  as  though  the  only  duty  the  company  thought  they 
had  to  perform,  was  to  simply  carry  you  over  their  road ;  and 
the  ignorance  of  some  of  the  under  employes  was  positively 
amazing.  Seated  in  the  carriage,  you  might  ride  twenty 
miles  past  the  station  at  which  you  wished  to  stop  without 
knowing  it,  if  you  chanced  to  be  on  the  off  side. 

There  was  no  conductor  to  pass  and  repass  through  the 
train,  to  look  out  that  you  debarked  at  the  proper  station ; 
no  list  of  towns  on  the  back  of  your  railroad  check ;  no  shout 
of  "Passengers  for  Chester!  Chester!"  when  the  train 
stopped;  and  the  guard  knew  nothing  of  any  other  train 
except  his  own,  or  any  other  distance  over  the  road,  or  of 
how  to  connect  with  any  other  train. 

The  passenger  is  left  to  himself,  and  is  never  told  by  the 

guard  to  "  change  cars  here  for ."     That,  you  have  to 

know  yourself,  and  look  out  and  have  the  railway  porter  get 
your  luggage  (not  baggage)  off,  or  it  will  be  carried  on,  as 
they  have  no  check  system  —  another  American  affair,  which 
it  won't  do  to  adopt  too  readily. 

Luggage  is  weighed,  and,  beyond  a  certain  amount,  charged 
for ;  but  any  portmanteau  one  can  get  under  the  seat  is  free ; 
and  it  is  astonishing  what  big  valises  some  men  carry.  And  in 
the  absence  of  the  check  system,  this  is,  of  course,  the  safest  way. 

Comparatively  little  luggage  is  lost  or  stolen.  One  reason 
why  it  is  not  stolen  is,  that  there  is  a  law  here  which  pun- 
ishes thieves,  and  does  not  allow  them  liberty  for  a  stipulated 
sum,  known  as  bail  in  America. 

The  price  in  the  first-class  carriage,  on  the  fast  or  express 
trains,  is  about  a  third  higher  than  the  second.  A  third 
class  is  still  cheaper.  The  parliamentary  or  slow  trains  have 
cheaper  rates  than  the  express. 

The  division  of  "  classes  "  is,  in  many  respects,  an  excellent 


"a  word  to  the  wise,"  etc.  23 

arrangement.  It  affords  to  him  who  desires  better  accommo- 
dations,  and  has  the  means  to  pay  for  them,  the  opportunity 
of  enjoying  them ;  and  it  does  not  force  the  poor  man,  the 
laborer  or  emigrant,  to  ride  in  a  richly  upholstered  carriage, 
where  he  feels  he  is  out  of  place,  when  he  would  prefer  to 
save  his  money,  and  have  less  gilding  and  upholstery. 

One  very  soon  finds,  in  England,  the  deference  paid  to 
class  and  to  wealth,  and  nowhere  sooner  than  on  the  railway 
train.  It  is  presumed,  on  the  expensive  routes,  that  those 
riding  in  first-class  carriages  are  "first-class"  people,  and  the 
guard's  manner  to  the  passengers  in  the  different  carriages  is 
an  index  of  English  education  in  this  matter.  As  he  appears 
at  the  window  of  the  first-class  carriage,  he  politely  touches 
his  hat :  — 

"  All  are  for  London  in  this  compartment  ?     Thank  you." 

To  the  second-class :  "  Tickets,  please." 

To  the  third-class :  "  Now,  then,  tickets.  Look  alive  here, 
will  you  ?  " 

The  first-class  passenger  finds  that  his  wants  are  better 
attended  to,  his  questions  answered  deferentially;  he  is 
allowed  to  take  almost  any  amount  of  small  luggage  into  the 
car  with  him,  much  of  which  would  be  excluded  from  the 
second-class,  if  an  attempt  were  made  to  carry  it  in.  And  O, 
the  potency  of  the  English  shilling ! 

Each  car  seats  eight;  but  we  will  suppose  that  there  are  a 
party  of  four  travelling  together,  and  desire  no  more  passen- 
gers in  the  compartments.  Call  the  guard  to  the  window, 
put  your  hand  in  your  pocket,  looking  him  in  the  eye  signifi- 
cantly. He  will  carelessly  drop  his  own  hand  within  the 
window  opening  inside  the  car.  You  drop  a  shilling  in  the 
hand.     "  This  car  is  occupied." 

"  Quite  so,  sir." 

Touching  his  hat,  he  locks  the  car  door,  and  when  other 
people  come  trying  the  door,  he  is  conveniently  out  of  the 
way,  or  informs  the  applicant,  "  Third  carriage  forward  for 
London,  sir,"  and  by  a  dozen  ingenious  subterfuges  keeps 
you  free  from  strangers,  so  much  that  you  betray  yourself  to 


24  RAILROAD    STATIONS. 

him  as  an  American  by  giving  him  another  shilling  at  your 
journey's  end;  and,  although  smoking  "is  strictly  forbidden 
in  first-class  carriages,"  a  party  \>f  three  or  four  smokers,  by 
the  judicious  use  of  a  couple  of  shillings,  may  have  one  all 
to  themselves  for  that  purpose. 

The  railway  stations  in  England  are  very  fine,  and  much 
superior  to  those  in  America,  although  we  are  improving 
ours,  especially  in  the  great  cities.  In  the  great  English 
cities  and  towns,  the  stations  are  vast  iron,  glass-roofed  struc- 
tures, kept  in  excellent  order.  The  waiting-rooms  are  divided 
into  first,  second,  and  third  class,  and  the  door  opening  upon 
the  platform  is  not  opened  until  a  certain  time  before  the 
train  starts.  Porters  in  uniform  take  the  luggage  to  the 
train,  and  the  "  guard "  who  acts  as  conductor  knows  nothing 
about  any  railway  train  connections  or  line  beyond  his  own. 
The  passenger  is  supposed  to  know  all  that  sort  of  thing,  and 
he  who  "  wants  to  know,  you  know,"  is  at  once  recognized  as 
an  American. 

The  country  stations  are  beautiful  little  rustic  affairs,  with 
gardens  of  roses  and  sweetbxier,  honeysuckles  and  flowering 
shrubs  about  them.  Some  have  the  name  of  the  station 
sown  in  dwarf  flowers  upon  the  bank  outside,  presenting  a 
very  pretty  appearance  in  spring  and  summer,  and  contrast- 
ing very  agreeably  with  the  rude  shanties  we  find  in  Amer- 
ica, with  their  tobacco-stained  floors  within,  and  bare  expanse 
of  yellow  sand  outside. 

We  rattled  through  Wales  in  an  express  train,  a  romantic 
view  of  wild  Welsh  mountains  on  one  side,  and  the  beating 
and  heaving  ocean  dashing  up  on  the  other,  sometimes 
almost  to  the  very  railway  track.  We  ran  through  great 
tunnels,  miles  in  length,  whirled  at  the  rate  of  fifty  miles  an 
hour  through  the  great  slate-quarrying  district  and  Bangor, 
past  the  magnificent  suspension  bridge  over  Menai  Straits, 
by  the  romantic  old  castle  of  Conway,  with  its  shattered  bat- 
tlements and  turrets  looking  doAvn  at  the  sea,  which  dashes 
up  its  foam-crested  waves  ceaselessly  at  its  rocky  base,  the 
old  red  sandstone  walls  worn  and  corroded  with  tunc ;  on, 


AN    OLD   ENGLISH    CITY.  25 

past  thatched  huts,  rustic  cottages,  and  green  landscape,  till 
the  panting  train  halted  at  the  great  modern  railway  station 
in  that  oldest  of  English  cities,  Chester. 

This  station  is  one  of  the  longest  in  England,  being  ten 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  and  having  wings,  a  kind  of  pro- 
jecting arcades,  with  iron  roofs,  to  shelter  vehicles  waiting 
for  trains.  From  this  magnificent  modern-built  station  a  cab 
carried  us,  in  a  few  minutes,  on  our  route  to  the  hotel  (Grosve- 
nor  House),  into  an  old  street  that  looked  as  though  we 
had  got  into  'a  set  scene  at  the  theatre,  representing  a  street 
in  Windsor  for  Falstaff  and  the  Merry  Wives  to  appear  in ; 
houses  built  in  1500,  or  years  before,  the  street  or  sidewalks 
passing  right  under  some  of  them ;  quaint  old  oddities  of 
architecture,  with  curious  inscriptions  in  abbreviated  old  Eng- 
lish on  their  carved  cross-beams,  and  their  gables  sticking  out 
in  every  direction;  curious  little  windows  with  diamond- 
shaped  panes  set  in  lead ;  and  houses  looking  as  though  the 
hand  of  time  had  squeezed  them  together,  or  extracted  the 
juice  from  them  like  sucked  oranges,  and  left  only  the  dried 
rind,  half  shrunken  from  its  original  shape,  remaining. 

The  great  curiosity,  however,  in  Chester,  is  the  Chester 
Cathedral,  and  the  old  walls  that  encompass  the  city.  I 
never  realized  the  force  of  the  expression  "  the  corroding 
tooth  of  time"  till  I  saw  this  magnificent  old  cathedral:  por- 
tions of  it  which  were  once  sharply  sculptured  in  various 
designs  are  now  worn  almost  smooth  by  age,  the  old  red 
sandstone  looking  as  though  time  had  sand-papered  it  with 
gritty  hail  and  honeycombed  its  stones  with  melting  rains ;  but 
the  whole  was  surrounded  with  a  mellow,  softened  beauty  of 
groined  arches,  beautiful  curves,  dreamy  old  cloisters,  and 
quaint  carving,  that  invested  even  the  ruined  portion  with  a 
hallowed  beauty.  The  stained-glass  windows,  both  old  and 
modern,  are  glorious  colored  wonders ;  the  chapel  where  the 
services  are  now  held  is  the  same  where,  a  thousand  years 
ago,  dreamy  old  monks  told  their  beads ;  and  there  are  their 
stalls  or  seats,  so  contrived  as  to  afford  but  partial  rest,  so 
that  if  the  sitter  slumbered  they  fell  forward  with  his  weight, 
and  threw  him  to  the  floor. 


26  CHESTER   CATHEDRAL. 

The  antique  wood  carving  upon  the  seats  and  pews  here, 
now  blackened  and  hardened  almost  to  ebony  in  appearance, 
is  very  fine,  excellently  executed,  and  well  preserved.  High 
above  ran  around  the  nuns'  walk,  with  occasional  openings, 
whence  the  meek-eyed  sisterhood  could  hear  service  below 
without  being  seen  themselves  as  they  came  from  their  quiet 
cloisters  near  at  hand,  a  quadrangle  of  one  hundred  and  ten 
feet  square,  in  which  were  four  covered  walks  looking  upon 
the  enclosed  garden,  now  a  neglected  greensward,  where 
several  forgotten  old  abbots  slumber  peacefully  beneath  great 
stone  slabs  with  obliterated  inscriptions. 

The  curious  grope  into  some  of  the  old  cells,  and  most  of 
us  go  down  under  the  building  in  the  crypt,  where  the  mas- 
sive Gothic  pillars,  that  support  the  pile,  still  in  perfect  preser- 
vation, bring  vividly  to  mind  those  canvas  representations  of 
prison  scenes  one  sees  upon  the  stage. 

Inside  the  cathedral  were  numerous  very  old  monuments 
and  mementos  of  the  past ;  among  others  an  immense  tap- 
estry wrought  by  nuns  hundreds  of  years  ago,  and  represent- 
ing Elymas  struck  with  blindness.  The  enormous  size  of 
these  cathedrals  strikes  the  "fresh"  American  tourist  with 
wonder.  Fancy  churches  five  times  as  large  as  ours,  and  the 
height  inside  from  sixty  to  one  hundred  feet  from  the  stone 
floor  to  the  arched  ceiling,  lighted  with  glorious  great  win- 
dows of  stained  glass,  upon  which  the  stories  of  the  Bible 
are  told  in  colored  pictures,  and  south,  east,  west,  transepts, 
nave,  and  choir,  crowded  with  relics  of  the  past,  that  you  have 
read  of  in  the  story-books  of  youth,  and  again  upon  the  pages 
of  history  in  maturer  years ;  artistic  sculptures,  old  monu- 
ments, statues,  carvings,  and  curious  remains. 

In  the  chapter-house  connected  with  the  cathedral,  we 
were  shown  the  colors  carried  by  the  Cheshire  regiment  on 
the  field  of  Waterloo ;  and  it  was  interesting  for  me  to  grasp 
with  my  sacrilegious  American  hand  one  of  the  colors  borne 
by  a  British  regiment  in  America  during  the  war  of  the 
Revolution. 

We  also  visited  the  ecclesiastical  court-room  in  which  the 


THE    CITY   WALLS.  27 

Bishop  of  Chester,  in  1554,  tried  a  Protestant  minister,  George 
Marsh,  and  sentenced  him  to  he  hurned  for  heresy.  The 
seats  of  the  judges  and  chair  of  the  accused  are  still  preserved 
and  shown  to  the  visitor,  who  generally  desires  to  sit  in  the 
martyr's  seat,  and  finds  it,  even  for  a  few  minutes,  an  un- 
comfortable one. 

The  Chester  Cathedral  is  said  to  have  been  founded  in  the 
year  200,  and  was  used  as  a  place  of  safety  against  the  Danes 
in  800.  It  was  well  kept,  and  ruled  by  abbots,  and  its  history 
well  preserved  from  the  time  of  King  William  Rufus,  who 
was  killed  in  New  Forest,  1093,  down  to  1541. 

The  old  walls  of  Chester  are  the  great  attraction  of  the 
city ;  in  fact,  Chester  is  the  only  city  in  Great  Britain  that 
has  preserved  its  old  walls  entire:  they  enclose  the  city 
proper,  and  are  about  two  miles  in  circumference,  affording 
a  delightful  promenade  and  prospect  of  the  surrounding  coun- 
try. The  walls  are  squarely  built  of  a  soft  red  freestone, 
something  like  that  used  for  our  "  brown  stone  front "  houses, 
though  apparently  not  so  hard  a  material,  and  vary  from 
twelve  to  forty  feet  in  height.  A  fresh  tourist  from  a  new 
country  like  our  own  begins  to  feel  he  is  communing  with 
the  past,  as  he  walks  over  these  old  walls,  erected  A.  D.  61, 
and  finds  their  chronology  to  read  thus :  — 

A.  D. 

61  —  Walls  built  by  Romans. 

73 —  Marius,  King  of  the  Britons,  extended  the  walls. 
607  —  The  Britons  defeated  under  the  walls. 
907  —  The  walls  rebuilt  by  daughter  of  Alfred  the  Great. 
1224  —  An  assessment  for  repairing  the  walls. 
1399  — Henry  of  Lancaster  mustered  his  troops  under  these  walls. 
1645  —  The  Parliamentary  forces  made  a  breach  in  these  walls. 

So  that  it  will  be  seen  they  have  looked  down  upon  some 
of  the  most  eventful  scenes  of  history;  and  as  we  strolled 
along,  thinking  what  a  feeble  obstacle  they  would  prove 
against  the  formidable  engines  of  modern  warfare,  we  came 
to  a  tower  called  the  Phoenix  Tower;  and  an  inscription  upon 


28  FROM   CHESTER   TO   LIVERPOOL. 

it  informs  the  visitor  that  upon  this  tower  King  Charles  I. 
stood  in  1645,  and  witnessed  the  defeat  of  his  army  on 
Rowton  Moor,  four  miles  off,  then  a  barren  field,  but  now  a 
smiling  plain  of  fields  and  cottages,  looking  very  unlike  a 
barren  moor,  or  the  scene  of  a  sanguinary  combat.  In  this 
old  tower  a  curious,  antiquary  sort  of  old  fellow  keeps  a 
motley  collection  of  curiosities,  among  which  were  Havelock's 
spurs,  buckles  of  Queen  Mary's  time,  bean  from  tree  planted 
by  Washington  (!),  and  a  great,  staring,  size-of-life  wood-cut 
of  Abraham  Lincoln,  besides  coins,  relics,  &c,  that  were 
labelled  to  interest,  but  whose  genuineness  might  not  stand 
the  test  of  too  close  an  investigation. 


CHAPTER    II. 

It  is  a  comparatively  short  ride  from  Chester  to  Liverpool, 
and  of  course  we  went  to  the  Adelphi  Hotel,  so  frequently  heard 
mentioned  our  side  of  the  water;  and  if  ever  an  American 
desires  a  specimen  of  the  tenacity  with  which  the  English 
cling  to  old  fashions,  their  lack  of  what  we  style  enterprise, 
let  him  examine  this  comfortable,  curious,  well  kept,  incon- 
venient old  house,  or  rather  collection  of  old  residences  rolled 
into  a  hotel,  and  reminding  him  of  some  of  the  old-fashioned 
hotels  of  thirty  years  ago  at  the  lower  part  of  the  city  of 
New  York. 

Upon  the  first  day  of  my  arrival  I  was  inexperienced 
enough  to  come  down  with  my  wife  to  the  "ladies'  coffee- 
room"  as  it  is  called,  before  ordering  breakfast.  Let  it  be 
kept  in  mind  that  English  hotels  generally  have  no  public 
dining  and  tea  rooms,  as  in  America,  where  a  gentleman  with 
ladies  can  take  their  meals ;  that  solemn  performance  is  done 
by  Englishmen  in  the  strictest  privacy,  except  they  are  travel- 
ling alone,  when  they  take  their  solitary  table  in  "  the  coffee- 


A   LESSON   OF   PATIENCE.  29 

room,"  and  look  glum  and  repellent  upon  the  scene  around 
at  intervals  of  the  different  courses  of  their  well-served  soli- 
tary dinner.  Public  dining-rooms,  however,  are  gradually 
coming  into  vogue  at  English  hotels,  and  at  the  Star  and 
Garter,  Richmond,  I  dined  in  one  nearly  as  large  as  that  of 
the  St.  Nicholas,  Fifth  Avenue,  or  Parker  House,  crammed 
with  chattering  guests  and  busy  waiters ;  but  that  was  of  a 
pleasant  Sunday,  in  the  height  of  the  season,  and  the  price  I 
found,  on  settling  the  bill,  fully  up  to  the  American  standard. 

Bat  at  the  Adelphi  I  came  down  in  the  innocence  of  my 
heart,  expecting  to  order  a  breakfast,  and  have  it  served  with 
the  American  promptitude. 

Alas !  I  had  something  to  learn  of  the  English  manner  of 
doing  things.  Here  was  the  Adelphi  always  full  to  overflow- 
ing with  new  arrivals  from  America  and  new  arrivals  for 
America,  and  here  was  its  ladies'  coffee-room,  a  small  square 
parlor  with  five  small  tables,  capable  of  accommodating,  with 
close  packing,  fifteen  people,  and  the  whole  room  served  by 
one  waiter.  The  room  was  full  on  my  arrival ;  but  fortunately, 
while  I  was  hesitating  what  course  to  pursue,  a  lady  and 
gentleman  who  had  just  finished  breakfast  arose,  and  we  sat 
down  at  the  table  they  had  vacated. 

In  the  course  of  ten  minutes  the  waiter  cleared  the  table  and 
spi'ead  a  fresh  cloth.     "  'Ave  you  hordered  breakfast,  sir  ?  " 

"  No !  Bring  me  mutton  chops,  coffee,  and  boiled  eggs,  and 
hot  biscuit,  for  two." 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir;  chops,  heggs,  coffee  —  a  —  biscuits,  aren't 
any  biscuits,  sir ;  send  out  and  get  some,  sir." 

Biscuits.  I  reflected ;  these  benighted  Britons  don't  under- 
stand what  an  American  hot  biscuit  is.  "  No  biscuits !  Well, 
muffins,  then." 

"  Muffins,  sir ;  yes,  sir ; "  and  he  hastened  away. 

We  waited  five,  ten,  fifteen  minutes ;  no  breakfast.  One 
party  at  another  table,  who  were  waiting  when  we  came  in, 
were  served  with  their  breakfast;  in  five  minutes  more  a 
fresh  plate  of  muffins  to  another  party;  five  more,  and  the 
waiter  came  to  our  table,  put  on  two  silver  forks,  a  salt-cellar, 


30  AN   ENGLISH   BREAKFAST. 

and  castor,  and  smoothed  out  some  invisible  wrinkles  in  the 
table  linen,  and  went  away ;  five  minutes  more,  and  he  was 
hustling  among  some  knives  at  a  sideboard. 

"Waiter!"" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Are  you  going  to  bring  my  breakfast  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  d'reckly,  sir;  chops  most  ready,  sir." 

Chops,  always  call  'em  chops ;  never  call  for  a  mutton  chop 
in  England ;  the  word  is  superfluous,  and  stamps  you  as  an 
ud  travelled,  inexperienced  Yankee  at  once. 

Five  minutes  more,  and  he  appeared,  bearing  a  tray  with 
the  breakfast,  just  thirty-five  minutes  after  the  order  had  been 
given  for  it.  How  long  would  a  hotel  in  America  be  patron- 
ized that  made  its  guest  wait  one  half  that  time  for  four  times 
as  elaborate  a  repast  ? 

I  soon  learned  how  to  manage  this  matter  better,  especially 
as  there  are  no  printed  bills  of  fare,  and  the  list  comprises  a 
very  few  standard  dishes.  My  plan  was,  on  first  rising  in 
the  morning,  to  write  my  order  for  breakfast  on  a  scrap  of 
paper,  ring  for  the  chambermaid,  hand  it  to  her  with  instruc- 
tions to  have  that  breakfast  ready  in  the  ladies'  coffee-room 
directly. 

The  English  "  directly  "  signifies  the  "  right  away  "  of  Amer- 
ica, or,  more  correctly,  immediately. 

In  half  an  hour  afterwards,  when  we  descended,  the  waiter, 
whose  memory  had  been  strengthened  by  the  judicious  in- 
vestment of  a  shilling,  had  the  cloth  laid,  and  met  us  with, 
"Breakfast  d'reckly,  sir;  Number  19;  yes,  sir." 

The  breakfast,  when  it  did  come,  was  perfect ;  the  coffee  or 
tea  excellent,  pure  and  unadulterated;  the  chops, — not  those 
American  affairs  with  one  bite  of  meat  the  size  of  half  a  dol- 
lar, tough  and  ill  cooked,  but  large  as  the  palm  of  one's  hand, 
— cooked  as  they  can  only  be  cooked  in  England;  the  muffins 
hot  and  smoking ;  the  eggs  fresh  and  excellent ;  so  that  the 
old-fashioned  framed  engravings,  mahogany  furniture,  cramped 
quarters,  and  style  of  the  past  were  forgotten  in  the  appeal  to 
that  god  of  the  Englishman,  the  stomach. 


ENGLISH   VS.   AMERICAN    COOKING.  31 

All  the  viands  at  the  Adelphi  were  of  the  best  description, 
and  admirably  cooked,  but  the  bill  of  fare  was  limited  to  very- 
few  articles.  A  sight  of  one  of  the  printed  bills  of  our  great 
American  hotels  would  have  driven  the  waiter  crazy,  while 
the  utter  disregard  of  time,  or  rather  of  the  value  of  time,  in 
an  English  hotel,  is  the  first  thing  that  strikes  a  newly-arrived 
American  and  stirs  up  his  irritability. 

Eating,  with  a  Briton,  is  a  very  serious  and  solemn  thing, 
and  the  dinner  one  of  the  most  important  social  ceremonies 
in  the  kingdom.  You  cannot,  if  you  will,  in  England,  pre- 
cipitate yourself  into  dyspepsia  with  the  ease  that  it  is  pos- 
sible to  do  it  in  America.  First,  because  people  will  not  be 
hurried  into  eating  at  railroad  speed,  and  next,  because  there 
is  better  cooking  of  standard  dishes  and  fewer  knickknacks 
at  the  hotel  tables  than  in  America. 

That  inevitable  pork  fat  that  flavors  everything  after  one 
gets  west  of  Buffalo,  and  a  little  off  the  line  of  travel  that 
leads  you  through  the  great  hotels  in  the  great  cities  in 
America,  —  that  saleratus  bread,  hayey  tea,  clammy  pie-crust, 
and  great  whity-gray,  soury  baker's  bread,  —  that  we,  who 
have  travelled  at  home,  are  so  familiar  with,  give  place  in 
England  to  articles  prepared  in  a  very  different  style.  I  have 
often  thought,  when  travelling  at  the  West,  that  it  was  a  sin 
for  people  in  the  midst  of  such  luxurious  plenty  to  abuse  it 
so  abominably  in  preparing  it  for  the  table. 

With  all  the  prejudices  of  a  raw  tourist  upon  his  first  visit,  I 
must  acknowledge  that  dming  two  months'  constant  travel  in 
England  and  Scotland,  I  never  sat  down  to  a  single  ill-cooked 
or  badly-served  meal;  and  I  have  tested  humble  roadside 
inns  in  the  country,  as  well  as  the  more  pretentious  hotels  of 
the  great  cities.  The  bread  of  all  kinds  is  close-grained,  sweet, 
well  baked,  and  toothsome;  the  chops  served  sometimes  on 
napkins  in  hot  dishes ;  muffins  hot,  with  fresh,  sweet  butter ; 
butter  served  in  thin  pats,  ornamented  with  parsley ;  broiled 
chicken  garnished  with  thin  slices  of  delicately  broiled  ham, 
so  thin  and  free  from  grease  as  not  to  make  a  spot  upon  the 
pure  damask  table  linen ;  the  dropped  eggs  upon  crisp  toast, 


32  LIVERPOOL   DOCKS. 

are  a  triumph  of  gastronomic  art,  and  I  need  say  no  word  in 
praise  of  English  roast  beef. 

But  there  is  one  dish  which  can  he  had  in  perfection  only 
in  America,  and  that  is  an  American  beefsteak.  It  is  almost 
impossible  to  get  a  decent  beefsteak  in  England,  out  of  the 
city  of  London,  and  there  only  at  a  few  well-known  restau- 
rants celebrated  for  that  specialty.  They  would  think  it 
almost  sacrilege  to  cut  beef  into  what  is  known  in  America 
as  sirloin  or  tenderloin  steaks ;  and,  with  the  few  exceptions 
above  named,  the  art  of  broiling  a  steak  in  the  American 
style,  and  serving  it  with  the  thin,  dry-fried  potatoes,  is  un- 
known.    But  a  truce  to  the  department  of  cuisine. 

The  one  thing  we  all  have  most  heard  of  in  Liverpool  is 
its  great  docks,  which  are  the  grand  and  characteristic  fea- 
ture, indicating  forcibly  its  great  commercial  activity  and 
enterprise  by  their  magnitude,  solidity,  and  extent.  These 
immense  receptacles  of  merchandise  extend  for  six  miles  along 
the  river,  and  have  an  enclosure  of  two  hundred  and  fifty-four 
acres,  a  quay  space  of  over  eighteen  miles ;  then  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  river  are  the  Birkenhead  docks,  enclosing 
one  hundred  and  sixty-seven  acres,  and  having  a  quay  space 
of  over  nine  miles, — thus  giving  to  Liverpool  four  hundred  and 
twenty-one  acres  of  enclosed  docks,  and  twenty-seven  miles 
of  quay  space. 

The  enormous  heaps  of  every  species  of  merchandise  seen 
at  *hese  places,  great  ships  from  every  part  of  the  world,  the 
perfect  forest  of  masts,  immense  storehouses,  cargoes  that  in 
the  general  mass  seem  but  mounds  of  tea-chests,  hillocks  of 
coffee-bags,  heaps  of  grain,  piles  of  lumber,  or  fragments  of 
machinery  in  these  great  areas,  but  which  in  reality  would 
provision  an  army,  build  a  navy,  and  outfit  a  manufacturing 
city,  give  one  the  impression  that  Liverpool  is  the  entrepot 
of  the  world,  and  some  idea  of  the  enormous  commerce  of 
Great  Britain. 

Each  dock  has  a  chief,  or  master,  who  directs  the  position 
of  all  ships,  and  superintends  the  flood-gates  at  the  docking 
and  undocking  of  vessels ;  and  strict  regulations  are  enforced 


SPLENDID    ORNITHOLOGICAL   DISPLAY.  33 

for  the  prevention  of  fire  and  the  preservation  of  property. 
The  sea  walls  in  front  of  some  of  these  docks  are  magnificent 
specimens  of  masonry,  and  each  dock  is  designated  by  a  name ; 
our  American  ships,  I  believe,  favor  that  known  as  Waterloo 
Dock.  All  the  docks  are  surrounded  by  huge  bonding  ware- 
houses and  merchandise  sheds. 

The  Free  Museum,  which  we  visited  in  Liverpool,  contains 
the  largest  and  finest  collection  of  ornithological  specimens  in 
the  world.  It  was  indeed  superb,  and  I  never  saw  such  splen- 
did taxidermical  skill  as  was  displayed  in  the  mounting  and 
arranging  of  this  vast  collection  of  thousands  and  thousands 
of  birds,  of  every  species  (it  seemed),  from  every  country  in 
the  known  world. 

For  instance,  there  was  every  species  of  eagle  known  to 
exist, —  gray,  white,  bald,  harpy,  <fcc,  —  poised,  at  rest,  in 
flight,  and  in  various  positions,  as  in  life ;  every  species  of  owl, 

—  the  gigantic,  judge-like  fellow,  horned,  snowy,  gray,  black, 
white,  and  dwarf;  every  falcon,  —  a  magnificent  set  of  speci- 
mens of  this  kind,  as  there  was  also  of  the  crow  family,  which 
were  represented  not  only  by  elegant  black  specimens,  but  by 
light-blue,  and  even  white  ones ;  every  species  of  sea  bird,  from 
the  gigantic  albatross  to  the  Mother  Cary's  chicken;  rare 
and  curious  birds;  great  cassowaries ;  the  biggest  ostrich  I 
ever  saw,  —  he  could  have  earned  a  full-grown  African  upon 
his  back  with  ease ;  great  emus ;  a  skeleton  of  the  now  ex- 
tinct dodo ;  a  collection  of  every  species  of  pheasant,  including 
specimens  of  the  Himmalayan  pheasant,  the  most  gorgeous 
bird  in  the  whole  collection,  whose  plumage  actually  glistened 
and  sparkled  with  glorious  tints,  like  tinsel  or  precious  stones 

—  a  gorgeous  combination  of  colors.  Over  one  hundred  differ- 
ent varieties  of  humming-birds  were  displayed,  and  the  same 
of  parrots,  who  were  in  green,  blue,  yellow,  white,  pink,  and 
every  uniform  of  feather  that  could  be  imagined;  magnificent 
lyre-birds,  with  tall,  erected  tail,  in  exact  form  of  Apollo's 
fabled  lyre. 

Great  condors  from  South  America;  a  brilliant  array  of 
every  species  of  birds  of  paradise ;  a  whole  army  of  toucans ;; 
3 


34  st.  george's  hall. 

a  brilliant  array  of  flamingoes  and  all  the  vulture  tribe ;  in 
fact,  every  kind  of  a  bird  you  had  ever  heard,  seen  pictures  or 
read  of,  and  very  many  you  never  had  heard  of,  were  pre- 
sented in  this  most  wonderful  collection ;  and  one  pleasing 
feature  besides  the  astonishing  life-like  positions  they  were 
placed  in,  was  the  admirable  neatness  and  order  of  the  whole ; 
not  a  stain  marred  the  clear  plate  glass  of  the  great  cases,  not 
a  speck  of  dust  could  be  seen  in  or  about  them ;  and  upon  the 
pedestal  of  each  specimen  was  pasted  a  label,  in  good  plain 
English  characters,  giving  the  English  name  of  it,  the  country 
it  came  from,  and,  in  many  instances,  its  habits,  &c,  so  much 
better  than  the  presumption  acted  upon  in  some  museums, 
that  all  the  visitors  are  scientific  Latin  scholars. 

Besides  this  collection  in  the  Museum,  was  one  of  minerals 
and  corals,  and  another  of  preserved  specimens  of  natural 
history.  In  this  last  we  saw  the  entire  skeleton  of  a  large 
humpback  whale,  an  entire  skeleton  of  the  gigantic  Irish  elk 
(species  extinct)  discovered  in  an  Irish  bog,  a  two-horned 
rhinoceros's  head  as  big  as  a  common  hogshead,  an  enormous 
and  splendidly-mounted  specimen  of  the  gorilla,  larger  than 
any,  I  think,  that  Du  Chaillu  exhibited  in  America,  and  a  vast 
number  of  other  interesting  curiosities  I  have  not  space  to 
enumerate,  the  whole  of  which  was  open  free  to  the  public, 
for  pleasure  or  scientific  study. 

St.  George's  Hall,  Liverpool,  occupies  a  commanding  posi- 
tion, and  presents  a  fine  architectural  appearance ;  the  eastern 
side  of  it  is  four  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long,  and  has  fifteen 
elegant  Corinthian  columns,  each  forty-five  feet  in  height. 
Within  the  portico  are  some  fine  specimens  of  sculpture ;  the 
great  saloon  is  one  hundred  and  sixty-seven  feet  long  by  seven- 
ty-seven feet  high,  and,  it  may  be  interesting  to  Bostonians  to 
know,  contains  the  great  organ  of  Liverpool,  which  is  not  so 
fine  a  one  as  the  Boston  one.  The  hall  is  used  for  public 
meetings,  musical  festivals,  &c,  —  very  much  for  the  same  pur- 
poses as  Boston  Music  Hall.  In  the  immediate  vicinity  of  St. 
George's  Hall  are  the  famous  Liverpool  lions,  colossal  stone 
monsters,  the  equestrian  statue  of  Prince  Albert,  and  other 
objects  of  interest. 


TOVERTY   AND    SUFFERING.  35 

It  was  in  Liverpool  that  I  first  saw  that  evidence  of  real, 
terribly  suffering  poverty  that  we  read  so  much  of  as  prevail- 
ing in  the  streets  of  some  of  the  great  cities  of  England.  I 
don't  know  but  as  squalid  misery  might  be  found  in  New 
York  city ;  but  there  need  be  but  very  little  of  suffering  by  any 
one  in  America  who  has  health  and  strength  sufficient  to  do  a 
day's  work.  In  Liverpool  I  saw  gi-oups  of  poor  creatures  in 
the  street,  with  starvation  written  in  their  countenances ;  and 
one  evening,  having  occasion  to  go  to  the  telegraph  office 
from  the  hotel,  I  found  that  the  streets  absolutely  swarmed 
with  women,  who  were  actually  annoying  to  the  stranger  by 
their  persistent  importunities.  Upon  one  occasion,  being 
awakened  by  the  sound  of  voices  at  one  o'clock  at  night,  I 
looked  across  the  square  from  my  window,  and  there,  opposite 
an  illuminated  gin-shop,  stood  a  group  of  three  poor  children, 
droning  through  a  song,  in  hopes  of  extracting  a  penny  or 
two  from  those  in  or  about  it ;  the  oldest  of  the  three  could 
not  have  been  a  dozen  years  old,  and  the  youngest  a  little 
ragged  girl  of  six. 

There  are  people  that  one  meets  here  whose  appearance  is 
an  anguish  to  the  aching  heart.  We  saw  a  poor  woman,  in 
a  sleazy  calico  dress,  with  a  colorless,  wan  face,  walking  wearily 
up  an  ascent  in  one  of  the  streets,  one  afternoon,  looking  as 
if  hope  were  dead  within  her  heart ;  and  thinking  it  a  case  of 
need,  my  friend  thrust  a  half  crown  into  her  hand,  saying, 
"  Here !  I  think  you  need  that."  The  poor  creature  looked  at 
him  for  a  moment,  and,  without  saying  a  word,  burst  into  a 
flood  of  tears.  My  experience  with  a  little  youngster  of  six, 
whose  whole  clothing  was  a  sort  of  tow  shirt,  and  who  per- 
sistently begged  for  a  penny,  which  I  at  last  gave  him,  was 
somewhat  different,  for  he  dashed  off  with  a  shout,  and,  as  I 
paused  on  the  corner  of  the  street,  an  army  of  young  raga- 
muffins seemed  to  start  out  from  every  nook  and  cranny,  with 
outstretched  arms  and  rags  fluttering  in  the  breeze,  and  shrill 
cries  of  "  Gi'  me  one,  gi'  me  a  penny,"  so  that  I  was  glad  to 
take  refuge  in  the  cab  I  had  signalled. 

From  Liverpool,  instead  of  starting  directly  for  London,  I 


36  THE   LAKE   DISTRICT. 

concluded  to  go  to  Scotland,  passing  through  the  Lake  district 
en  route.  If  the  reader  will  look  at  a  good  map  of  England 
and  Scotland,  and  find  Solway  Firth,  which  is  on  the  west 
coast,  and  then  look  at  the  country  immediately  south  of  it, 
occupying  a  portion  of  the  counties  of  Cumberland,  "West- 
moreland, and  Lancaster,  he  will  see  that  it  is  full  of  lakes  and 
mountains,  and  will  find,  on  visiting  it,  that  its  picturesque 
attractions  are  unequalled  in  any  other  j^art  of  England. 
Additional  interest  is  imparted  to  the  Lake  district  from  its 
being  the  haunt  and  home  of  many  of  England's  most  cele- 
brated modern  poets ;  and  inspired,  doubtless,  by  its  lovely 
views  and  quiet  beauty  of  landscape,  from  here  have  emanated 
some  of  their  best  compositions. 

We  left  the  main  road  in  our  journey  westward  at  a  place 
called  Oxenholme,  and  there  took  a  'bus,  which  carried  us 
down  to  Lake  "Windermere.  This  lake  is  a  beautiful,  irregu- 
lar sheet  of  water,  eleven  miles  in  length  and  about  a  mile 
wide,  and  numerous  little  islands  add  to  its  picturesque  ap- 
pearance, the  scenery  being  soft  and  graceful ;  the  gentle 
slopes  and  eminences  that  surround  it,  and  the  numerous 
country-seats  and  cottages  peeping  from  the  wooded  slopes, 
combining  to  render  it  one  of  those  pictures  of  quiet  beauty 
that  English  poets  delight  to  sing  of.  The  hotel  that  we 
rested  at  was  perched  upon  a  commanding  eminence,  from 
which  a  delightful  view  of  the  lake  and  surrounding  scenery 
was  obtained. 

The  pretty  village  of  Bowness,  near  by,  attracted  my  atten- 
tion, this  being  my  first  experience  in  an  English  country 
village ;  and  its  appearance  was  in  many  respects  novel,  and 
unlike  what  I  had  expected.  First,  I  was  struck  at  the  entire 
absence  of  wooden  houses ;  wood  is  scarce  here ;  the  houses 
are  all  built  of  stone,  about  the  color  of  our  stone  walls  in  the 
country  towns  of  New  England,  the  stones  about  two  feet 
square,  and  irregular  in  shape.  A  little  rustic  porch  of  wood, 
with  the  bark  on,  is  sometimes  built  before  the  door,  and  this 
is  overrun  with  ivy,  or  some  climbing  and  flowering  plant. 
Some  of  the  more  pretentious  houses  had  stone  porches ;  but 


A   CHARMING    RIDE.  37 

all  round  and  about  them  was  twined  the  beautiful  ivy, 
honeysuclde,  or  other  plants,  from  in  and  out  of  which  hopped 
and  twittered  the  sparrows. 

The  village  streets  were  quite  narrow,  and  some  as  crooked 
as  the  letter  S,  but  all  scrupulously  clean.  There  were  no 
great  brush  heaps,  chips,  dirt-piles,  or  worn-out  tin  ware  about 
any  of  these  charming  little  cottages  or  their  vicinity ;  the 
appearance  is  as  if  the  place  had  just  been  thoroughly  swept 
up  and  put  in  holiday  trim.  One  reason  for  this  is,  I  suppose, 
that  everything  here  is  utilized  that  a  penny  can  be  realized 
upon,  and  what  we  make  a  litter  with  about  an  American 
house  of  the  land,  is  here  either  sold,  or  turned  to  account  in 
some  other  way ;  but  certainly  this  air  of  extreme  neatness, 
which  I  noticed  in  many  English  villages,  must,  in  a  degree, 
account  for  some  of  their  tourists'  disgust  in  America.  I  have 
not  seen  a  man  spit  on  the  floor  here  since  I  set  foot  in  Eng- 
land, and  the  floors  even  of  the  village  ale-houses  are  a  striking 
contrast  to  those  of  our  New  England  country  taverns :  spit- 
ting appears  to  be  an  American  national  habit. 

After  a  quiet  rest  at  this  charming  spot,  we  chartered  a 
"  dog  cart,"  and  started  on  a  ride  of  twenty-three  miles,  for 
Keswick;  and  of  the  charming  drives  I  have  had,  this  surpasses 
all.  The  road  ran  along  Lake  Windermere  to  Ambleside, 
Grassmere  to  Rydal  Lake  and  Rydal  Mount,  Nab-Scar  up 
Dunmail  Rise,  in  sight  of  Helvellyn,  and  past  Thirlemere. 

The  views  were  beautiful  —  high  hills,  with  little  green- 
shored  lakes  set  in  among  them,  like  flashing  brilliants ;  pretty 
little  English  villages,  like  those  already  described ;  country- 
seats  ;  little  rustic  arched  stone  bridges,  with  dark,  cool  trout- 
streams  running  beneath  them;  grand  country-seats,  with 
their  imposing  entrances  and  porters'  lodges;  old  ivy-clad 
churches,  and  here  and  there  a  tall  grove  of  trees,  with  the 
rooks  cawing  in  their  branches.  The  bridges,  walls,  cottages, 
and  churches,  with  their  dark  stone-work  relieved  by  clustering 
ivy,  had  a  softened  and  pleasing  appearance  to  the  eye,  Avhile 
the  fields  and  meadows  were  a  vivid  green,  and  swarming 
with  sheep  and  young  lambs  frisking  about  them,  or  on  the 
lawns  and  hill-sides. 


38  HOME   OF    THE    POETS. 

The  road  continually  gave  us  long  reaches  of  these  views, 
such  as  I  had  never  seen  before,  except  in  paintings,  or  in 
the  better  class  of  English  illustrated  books.  We  passed 
Dove's  Nest,  where  Mrs.  Hemans  lived  for  a  year;  saw  Miss 
Martineau's  pleasant  and  picturesque  residence,  Words- 
worth's bouse  at  Rydal  Mount,  and  went  to  the  little  cottage 
on  the  borders  of  Grassmere  Lake,  where  he  dwelt  when 
young,  and  wrote  much  of  his  best  poetry ;  then  to  the  hum- 
ble cottage,  not  far  from  the  lake  shore,  where  De  Quincey 
hived. 

We  drove  to  the  churchyard  in  the  little  village  of  Grass- 
mere,  to  visit  Wordsworth's  grave,  —  a  charming  spot,  —  the 
little  church  situated  near  a  swift  little  stream,  spanned  by 
arched  stone  bridges,  and  surrounded  by  scenery  of  rustic 
beauty.  The  grave  of  the  poet  is  marked  by  a  plain  stone, 
upon  which  are  inscribed  his  own  and  his  wife's  name ;  and 
not  far  from  it  is  the  grave  of  Hartley  Coleridge.  The 
secluded  and  beautiful  spot  seemed  a  fitting  resting-place  for 
the  poet ;  the  gentle  babble  of  the  little  stream,  the  peaceful 
rustle  of  the  grass  in  the  churchyard,  and  the  modest  little 
daisies  that  bloomed  upon  the  graves,  all  seemed  to  lend  a 
tranquil  and  dreamy  calm  to  the  place,  that  made  it  appear 
as  if  hallowed  to  the  poet's  repose. 

Keswick,  our  next  halting-place,  is  situated  in  a  delightful 
vale,  between  Derwentwater,  or  Keswick  Lake,  and  Bassen- 
thailewater,  and  surrounded  by  an  amphitheatre  of  hills. 
The  elegant  Keswick  Hotel  is  situated  in  a  charming  posi- 
tion, just  out  of  the  town,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  great 
circle  of  hills  —  one  of  the  finest  and  best-kept  houses  of 
the  kind  in  all  England.  From  its  great  coffee-room,  or,  as 
we  should  call  it,  dining-room,  which  runs  nearly  half  the 
length  of  one  side  of  the  house,  and  the  promenade,  or  balus- 
trade, which  extends  the  whole  length,  is  a  most  charming 
view,  and  the  grounds  of  the  house,  which  are  quite  exten- 
sive, are  laid  out  quite  handsomely.  First  came  an  elegant, 
close-shaven  lawn,  running  one  hundred  feet  from  the  hotel 
walk  j  then  a  green  terrace,  descended  by  ornamental  stone 


KESWICK.  39 

steps ;  then  a  broad  gravel  walk,  or  mall,  running  round  the 
estate ;  and  from  this  another  broad,  green  lawn,  sloping  gen- 
tly down  to  the  little  Greta  River,  a  stream  of  about  twenty 
feet  in  width  at  this  point,  spanned,  here  and  there,  with 
arched  stone  bridges,  and  dashing  off  into  several  noisy  little 
waterfalls. 

From  this  little  park  of  the  hotel  there  is  a  pretty  view  of 
the  village  of  Keswick,  with  its  dark  stone-work  houses,  and 
English  church  tower,  rising  above.  Beyond,  on  every  side 
in  the  huge  circle,  rise  the  lofty  hill-tops,  and  here  and  there 
elegant  country-seats  and  villas  sit  enthroned,  midway  as  it 
were  in  the  mountain's  lap,  and  some  high  up  towards  the 
breezy  peaks.  The  verdant  sides  of  the  hill  are  pencilled  off, 
as  it  were,  with  hedges,  marking  the  division  lines  of  prop- 
erty, and  a  winding  road  occasionally  throws  its  brown  tracks 
out  amid  the  green. 

The  Keswick  Hotel  is  built  of  lighter  colored  stone  than  is 
generally  used  for  houses  there,  and  is  finished  off  in  such  an 
expensive  and  ornamental  style  as  to  look  quite  like  an  Eng- 
lish hall  or  country-seat.  It  is  owned,  I  think,  by  the  rail- 
road company  whose  road  passes  here.  The  station  is 
directly  adjoining  the  house,  and  is  reached  by  a  glass-roofed 
walk,  thirty  or  forty  feet  long.  And  here  let  me  remark,  that 
the  excellent  system,  good  management,  and  entire  absence 
of  noise,  shrieking,  puffing,  blowing,  whistling,  and  all  sorts 
of  disturbance  that  render  a  location  near  a  railroad  station 
in  America  so  objectionable,  were  most  striking.  I  never 
should  have  taken  note  of  any  arrival  or  departure  of  trains 
from  any  noise  of  them ;  for,  save  the  distant  whistle  as  they 
approached,  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  their  presence. 

The  house  is  kept  admirably.  Such  neatness,  such  thor- 
oughness, and  such  courteous  attention,  and  such  an  incom- 
parable cuisine  are,  after  one  gets  accustomed  to  English  delib- 
eration, most  gratifying  to  the  tourist.  There  can  be  but  few 
better  places  for  the  American  traveller  to  see  and  enjoy 
English  country  life,  and  beautiful  English  scenery,  than  Kes- 
wick, and  at  this  beautiful  house,  in  the  month  of  May. 


40  AN   ENGLISH    CHURCH. 

We  rambled  round  through  the  quaint  village  of  Keswick, 
and  of  a  Sunday  morning  took  our  way  over  two  little  stone 
bridges,  on  through  a  deep,  shady  English  lane,  with  the 
trees  arching  overhead,  and  the  hedges  green  at  its  side,  to 
Crossthwaite  Church,  built  several  hundred  years  ago,  and 
with  its  rustic  churchyard,  beautiful  and  green,  containing 
the  graves  of  the  poet  Southey  and  his  wife.  I  sat  upon  an 
old  slab  in  the  churchyard,  and  watched  the  pretty,  rustic 
picture,  as  the  bells  sweetly  chimed,  and  the  villagers  came 
to  church ;  some  up  the  green  lane  by  twos  and  threes,  others 
across  the  fields  and  over  stiles,  threading  their  way  among 
the  churchyard  mounds  to  the  rural  church. 

Wordsworth  describes  in  one  of  his  poems  the  English 
rural  church  so  perfectly  that  I  cannot  forbear  making  the 
extract,  it  was  so  appropriate  to  this,  which  stood  amid 

"  The  vales  and  lulls  whose  beauties  hither  drew 
The  poet's  steps." 

In  fact,  Wordsworth's  description  might  well  be  taken  as  a 
correct  one  of  almost  any  one  of  the  picturesque  English  coun- 
try churches  that  the  tourist  sees  here  in  the  rural  districts. 

"  Not  framed  to  nice  proportions  was  the  pile, 
But  large  and  massy,  for  duration  built; 
With  pillars  crowded,  and  the  roof  upheld 
By  naked  rafters,  intricately  crossed, 
Like  leafless  underboughs  in  some  thick  grove, 
All  withered  by  the  depth  of  shade  above. 
Admonitory  texts  inscribed  the  walls, 
Each  in  its  ornamental  scroll  enclosed ; 
Each  also  crowned  with  winged  heads  —  a  pair 
Of  rudely  painted  cherubim.     The  floor 
Of  nave  and  aisle,  in  unpretending  guise, 
Was  occupied  by  oaken  benches  ranged 
In  seemly  rows ;  the  chancel  only  showed 
Some  inoffensive  marks  of  earthly  state 
And  vain  distinction.     A  capacious  pew 
Of  sculptured  oak  stood  here,  with  drapery  lined ; 
And  marble  monuments  were  here  displayed 
Upon  the  walls ;  and  on  the  floor  beneath 


TIIE    DRUIDS'    TEMPLE.  41 

Sepulchral  stones  appeared,  with  emblems  graven, 
And  foot-worn  epitaphs,  and  some  with  small 
And  shining  effigies  of  brass  inlaid." 

The  marks  of  earthly  state  and  vain  distinction  in  the 
church  were  two  old  stone  effigies  of  Lord  Derwentwater 
and  his  wife,  died  in  1527,  with  a  very  legible  inscription  in 
brass  setting  forth  that  fact,  and  a  white  marble  effigy  and 
monument  to  Southey. 

In  the  churchyard  is  a  plain  black  slate  tombstone  over  the 
poet's  grave,  on  which  is  inscribed,  "  Here  lies  the  body  of 
Robert  Southey,  LL.  D.,  Poet  Laureate.  Born  August  12, 
1774;  died  March  21,  1843.  For  forty  years  resident  in 
this  parish.  Also,  of  Edith,  his  wife,  born  May  20,  1774 ; 
died  November  16,  1837."  Returning  home,  we  passed 
"  Greta  Hall,"  the  poet's  residence,  situated  in  Keswick,  a 
plain  mansion,  upon  a  slight  elevation  just  back  from  the 
street,  commanding  a  good  view  of  the  surrounding  scenery, 
and  with  a  pleasant,  grassy  slope  in  front,  and  beautiful 
shrubbery  round  and  about  its  well-kept  grounds. 

Another  pleasant  walk  was  one  taken  up  a  winding  road 
on  the  hill-side,  to  a  spot  containing  some  of  the  Druidical 
remains  found  in  different  parts  of  England.  This  is  known 
here  as  the  Druids'  Temple,  and  consists  of  a  great  circle  of 
upright  stones,  six  or  eight  feet  in  height,  and  set  up  at  reg- 
ular intervals,  with  two  or  three  placed  together  at  one  side 
of  the  circle,  as  if  for  a  gigantic  altar.  The  spot  for  this 
temple  was  admirably  chosen  by  the  ancient  priests  of  the 
oak  and  mistletoe  for  their  mysterious  rites,  being  upon  a 
sort  of  natural  platform,  or  hill  shaped  like  a  truncated  cone, 
while  all  round  rises  a  natural  circle  of  lesser  hills. 

From  Keswick  to  Penrith  is  a  pleasant  ride  by  rail.  Near 
the  station  in  Penrith  are  the  ruins  of  an  old  castle,  for  a  long 
time  the  residence  of  the  Duke  of  Gloster,  afterwards  Rich- 
ard III.  From  this  spot  we  started  on  a  pleasant  walk  for 
Brougham  Hall,  the  seat  of  Lord  Brougham,  about  two  and 
a  half  miles  distant,  passing  on  the  way  a  curious  formation 
in  a  field,  denominated  King  Arthur's  Round  Table.    It 


42  BROUGHAM   HALL. 

very  much  resembles  places  in  waste  land  in  America,  where 
a  travelling  circus  has  left  its  ring-mark,  that  becomes  over- 
grown Avith  turf,  only  the  circle  was  much  larger.  This  field 
and  formation  were  carefully  preserved  by  the  owner,  it  being, 
as  we  were  informed,  one  of  those  places  where  the  Knights 
of  King  Arthur's  time  used  to  exercise  themselves  in  the 
practice  of  horsemanship  and  feats  of  arms.     Perhaps  it  was. 

Brougham  Hall  is  situated  upon  a  hill  not  far  from  the  ruins 
of  Brougham  Castle,  and  is  an  old  and  picturesque  building, 
commanding,  from  its  elevated  position,  extensive  views  of 
the  surrounding  country.  The  place  was  invested  with  a 
peculiar  interest,  as  being  the  residence  of  one  of  England's 
greatest  orators  and  statesmen.  His  voice,  since  our  visit  to 
his  beautiful  home,  however,  has  been  hushed  forever,  and  he 
has  laid  him  down  to  sleep  with  the  humblest. 

Owing  to  its  situation  and  prospects,  the  English  guide- 
books style  this  castle  the  "  "Windsor  of  the  North."  The 
grounds  are  beautifully  laid  out  —  a  broad  lawn,  bounded  by 
a  grove  of  old  trees,  with  the  rooks  cawing  and  circling  about 
them ;  the  great  paved  court-yard  of  the  castle,  upon  which 
the  stables  and  servants'  rooms  looked  out ;  a  tower  on  the 
stables,  with  clock  and  bell.  From  this,  a  Gothic  arched 
gateway  opened  into  another  square  and  more  pretentious 
court-yard,  upon  which  the  inner  windows  of  his  lordship's 
family  looked.  On  one  side  of  this  court-yard,  the  castle 
wall  was .  completely  covered  with  a  thick,  heavy  mass  of 
beautiful  ivy,  the  window  spaces  and  turrets  all  being  cut  out 
in  shape,  giving  it  a  novel  and  picturesque  appearance.  In 
the  centre  of  this  court-yard  was  a  pretty  grass  j>lat. 

The  other  front  of  the  castle  looked  out  upon  the  estate, 
and  the  view  from  the  windows  upon  this  side  was  lovely. 
The  fine  lawn  and  trimly  laid  out  grounds,  the  gradually  slop- 
ing landscapes  stretching  down  to  the  little  River  Eamont, 
winding  on  its  tortuous  way,  and  spanned,  as  usual,  by  the 
pretty  arched  bridges,  and  the  hills  of  Ullswater  for  a  back- 
ground, made  a  charming  prospect.  There  were  so  many 
novel  and  interesting  things  to  see  in  the  different  apartments 


INSIDE    LORD    BROUGHAM'S    RESIDENCE.  43 

of  the  castle,  that  description  will  in  some  degree  appear  but 
tame. 

We  first  went  into  the  armor-room,  used  on  great  occasions 
as  a  dining-hall.  The  apartment  was  not  very  large,  but  the 
walls  and  niches  were  filled  with  rare  and  curious  arms  and 
armor  of  various  periods,  and  that  had  been  used  by  historic 
personages.  Here  we  were  shown  the  skull  of  one  of  Lord 
Brougham's  ancestors,  carefully  preserved  under  a  glass  case 
—  a  Knight  Templar,  who  fought  in  the  first  crusade ;  this 
skull  was  taken,  together  with  a  spur,  from  his  coffin  a  few 
years  ago,  when  the  tomb  was  opened,  where  he  was  found 
lying  with  crossed  feet,  as  a  good  Knight  Templar  should  lie. 
At  one  end  of  this  hall  was  a  little  raised  gallery  about  five 
feet  from  the  floor,  separated  from  the  room  by  a  high  Gothic 
screen,  through  which  a  view  of  the  whole  could  be  obtained. 
This  platform  led  to  an  elegant  little  octagon  chamber,  a  few 
steps  higher  up,  occupied  by  Lord  Brougham's  son  as  a  sort  of 
lounging  and  writing  room.  In  this  apartment  were  a  few 
choice  and  beautiful  pictures ;  one  of  dogs  fighting,  presented 
to  Lord  Brougham  by  Louis  Napoleon,  some  original  Titians, 
Vandykes,  Tintorettos,  Hogarth,  &c. 

We  next  visited  the  drawing-room,  which  was  hung  all 
over  with  beautiful  Gobelin  tapestry,  wrought  to  represent 
the  four  quarters  of  the  globe  in  productions,  fruit,  flowers, 
vegetation,  and  inhabitants  —  a  royal  gift  and  an  elegant  sight. 
Here  were  also  displayed  a  fine  Sevres  dessert  service,  the  gift 
of  Louis  Philippe,  the  great  purses  of  state  presented  to 
Lord  Brougham  when  he  was  chancellor,  as  a  sort  of  badge 
or  insignia  of  office.  These  were  rigged  on  fire-frame  screens, 
and  wei'e  heavily  gold-embroidered  affairs,  twenty-four  inches 
square  or  more,  and  worth  over  three  hundred  pounds  each. 
Here  also  was  a  glass  case  filled  with  gifts  made  to  Lord 
Brougham  by  different  distinguished  personages,  such  as  gold 
snuff-boxes  from  different  cities,  watches,  a  miniature,  taken 
from  life,  of  the  great  Napoleon,  presented  by  Joseph  Bona- 
parte, &c. 

The  library,  which  was  well  stocked  with  choice  books, 


44  ANTIQUE   FURNITURE. 

was  another  elegant  room,  most  artistically  arranged.  Here 
portraits  of  great  writers,  by  great  artists,  occupied  con- 
spicuous positions ;  and  among  other  noteworthy  pictures  in 
this  room  was  one  of  Hogarth,  painted  by  himself,  a  portrait 
of  Voltaire  and  others. 

The  ceilings  of  these  apartments  were  laid  out  in  squares 
or  diamond  indentation,  elegantly  frescoed,  or  carved  from 
the  solid  oak,  the  color  formed  to  harmonize  with  the  fur- 
niture and  upholstery.  The  ceiling  of  the  drawing-room  was 
occupied  by  the  different  quarterings  of  the  coat  of  arms  of 
the  Brougham  family,  in  carved  work  of  gold  and  colors,  one 
to  each  panel,  very  elaborately  finished. 

"When  we  were  escorted  to  the  sleeping  apartments,  new  sur- 
prises awaited  us.  Here  was  one  complete  suite  of  rooms,  — 
chambers,  dressing-room,  closet,  &c,  —  all  built  and  furnished 
in  the  early  Norman  style ;  the  old,  carved,  black,  Norman 
bedstead,  hundreds  of  years  old ;  gilt  leather  tapestry  on  the 
walls,  decorated  with  Norman  figures  of  knights,  horses  and 
spearmen ;  huge  Norman-looking  chairs  ;  great  brass-bound 
oaken  chests,  black  with  age  and  polished  by  the  hand  of 
time ;  rude  tables ;  chests  of  drawers ;  the  doors  and  windows 
with  semicircular  arched  head-pieces,  the  former  of  massive 
black  oak,  with  huge  brass  chevron-shaped  hinges,  quaint 
door-handles,  and  bolts  of  the  period  represented,  and  the 
various  ornaments  of  zigzag,  billet,  nail-head,  &c,  of  Norman 
architecture  appearing  in  every  direction.  Something  of  the 
same  style  is  seen  in  some  of  our  E23iscopal  churches  in 
America,  but  it  is  more  modernized.  Here  the  Norman  rooms 
were  Norman  in  all  details,  the  dark,  old  wood  was  polished 
smooth  as  steel,  the  brass  work  upon  the  doors  and  old  chests 
gleamed  like  beaten  gold,  and  the  whole  picture  of  quaint, 
old  tracery  of  arches  and  narrow  windows,  tapestry,  carving, 
and  massive  furniture,  conveyed  an  impression  of  wealth, 
solidity,  and  substantial  beauty. 

From  the  Norman  rooms  we  passed  into  the  Norman 
gallery,  a  corridor  of  about  fifty  feet  long  and  sixty  feet  wide, 
upon  the  sides  of  which  are  painted  a  complete  copy  of  the 


A   EOAD-SIDE    INN.  45 

wonderous  Bayeaux  tapestry,  wrought  by  Matilda,  queen  of 
William  I.,  and  representing  the  conquest  of  England  —  the 
only  perfect  copy  said  to  have  been  made.  The  different 
sleeping  apartments  were  each  furnished  in  different  styles ; 
in  one  was  an  elegantly  carved  bedstead,  of  antique  design, 
which  cost  four  hundred  guineas,  and  was  a  present  to  Lord 
Brougham. 

Lord  Brougham's  own  study,  and  his  favorite  resort  for 
reading,  writing,  and  thinking,  was  one  of  the  plainest,  most 
unpretending  rooms  in  the  whole  building ;  the  furniture  of 
the  commonest  land,  the  pictures  old  impressions  of  Hogarth's, 
Marriage  a  la  Mode,  and  the  Industrious  and  Idle  Apprentice, 
in  cheap  frames,  and  that  familiar  to  Americans,  of  Humboldt 
in  his  study.  Two  battered  hats,  hung  upon  a  wooden  hat- 
tree  in  the  corner,  —  hats  that  Punch  has  made  almost  histor- 
ical, and  certainly  easily  recognizable  wherever  seen,  —  com- 
pleted the  picture  of  the  simple  apartment  where  one  of  the 
greatest  statesmen  of  the  present  generation  was  wont  to 
muse  upon  the  affairs  of  one  of  the  mightiest  nations  of  the 
world,  at  whose  helm  his  was  the  guiding  hand. 

Returning  on  our  Avay  to  the  railway  station,  we  lunched 
in  the  tap-room  of  a  little  wayside  inn,  "  The  White  Hart," 
just  one  of  those  places  that  we  Americans  read  of  in  English 
novels,  and  which  are  so  unlike  anything  we  have  at  home, 
that  we  sometimes  wonder  if  the  description  of  them  is  not 
also  a  part  of  the  writer's  creation.  But  here  was  one  just 
as  if  it  had  stepped  out  of  an  English  story  book ;  the  little 
room  for  guests  had  a  clean  tile  floor  ornamented  with  al- 
ternate red  and  white  chalk  stripes,  a  fireplace  of  immense 
height  and  width,  round  which  the  village  gossips  probably 
sipped  their  ale  o'  winter  nights,  the  wooden  chairs  and 
benches  and  the  wooden  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 
spotlessly  clean  and  white  from  repeated  sciubbings;  half  a 
dozen  long  clay  tobacco  pipes  were  in  a  tray  on  the  table 
for  smokers,  clustering  vines  and  snowy  curtains  shaded  the 
windows,  and  there  was  an  air  of  quiet  comfort  and  somno- 
lency about  the  place  quite  attractive  to  one  who  was  fatigued 
with  a  long  and  dusty  walk. 


46  "MINE    EASE    AT   MINE    INN." 

The  landlady  entered  with  snowy  apron,  broad,  clean  cap, 
and  of  a  figure  suggestive  of  the  nutritious  quality  of  English 
ale  or  good  living,  and,  like  the  Mrs.  Fezziwig  of  Dickens, — 

"  One  vast,  substantial  smile." 

"  What  will  you  please  to  horder,  sir  ?  " 

"  Can  we  have  some  ale  and  crackers  ?  " 

"Hale,  sir?  Yes,  sir.  Bread  and  cheese,  sir?"  {interrog- 
atively). 

"  Yes ;  bread  and  cheese." 

"  Two  mugs  and  bread  and  cheese,  Mary,"  said  the  land- 
lady, as  she  bustled  out  through  the  passage  to  a  little  wicket 
enclosure,  behind  which  we  caught  through  the  opening  door 
the  flash  of  tankards  in  gleaming  rows,  and  in  a  moment 
more  "Mary"  tripped  in  with  two  beer  mugs,  shining  like 
silver,  and  the  snowy  foam  rising  high  and  bubbling  in  creamy 
luxuriance  over  their  brims  upon  the  little  tray  that  bore 
them. 

Good  English  home-brewed  is  said  to  be  better  than  that 
served  in  America ;  perhaps  it  may  be  that  we  "  'aven't  got 
the  'ops "  to  make  as  good  as  they  brew  in  England,  or  it 
may  be  that  tasting  it  while  the  spring  breeze  is  blowing  the 
perfume  from  the  hedgerows  and  meadows  in  at  the  windows 
of  little  road-side  inns,  which  command  a  pretty  rustic  view  of 
gentle  slope,  green  valley,  and  cool  shade  trees,  has  something 
to  do  with  one's  judgment  of  it.  The  attack  upon  the  ale 
of  old  England  and  the  loaf  of  sweet,  close-grained  bread 
and  cheese,  involved  the  enormous  outlay  of  ten  pence,  to 
which  we  added  two  more  for  Mary,  an  even  shilling,  for 
which  she  dropped  a  grateful  courtesy,  and  we  strolled  on 
through  the  antiquated  little  town  of  Penrith,  visiting  the 
churchyard  and  seeing  the  giant's  grave,  a  space  of  eight 
feet  between  a  gigantic  head  and  foot  stone,  each  covered 
with  nearly  obliterated  Runic  inscriptions. 


EDINBURGH.  47 


CHAPTER    III. 

From  Penrith  we  were  whirled  away  over  the  rails  to  Ed- 
inburgh. Edinburgh  is  certainly  a  wonder  —  a  wonder  of  his- 
toric interest,  a  wonder  of  curious  old  buildings,  and  a  wonder 
of  magnificent  new  ones.  Here  we  were  in  the  very  place 
that  Walter  Scott  has  made  us  long  and  long  to  see,  and 
were  to  visit  the  scenes  that  were  sung  in  his  matchless  min- 
strelsy, and  painted  in  his  graphic  romances.  Here  was  the 
city  where  Knox,  the  Reformer,  preached,  and  Mary,  Queen 
of  Scots,  held  her  brief  and  stormy  reign.  Here  we  were  to 
see  Holyrood,  Edinburgh  Castle,  and  a  hundred  scenes  identi- 
fied with  Scottish  history,  the  very  names  of  which  served  to 
help  the  melodious  flow  of  the  rhythm  of  Scott's  entrancing 
poems.  With  what  wondrous  charms  does  the  poet  and  novel- 
ist invest  historic  scenes !  How  memory  earned  us  back  to 
the  days  when  the  Tales  of  a  Grandfather  held  us  chained  to 
their  pages,  as  with  a  spell!  How  the  Waverley  Novels' 
scenes  came  thronging  into  imagination's  eye,  like  the  half- 
forgotten  scenes  of  happy  youth,  when  we  read  of  the  bold 
Scottish  champions,  the  fierce  Highlanders,  and  the  silken 
courtiers,  the  knights,  battles,  spearmen,  castles,  hunts,  feasts, 
and  pageants,  so  vividly  described  by  the  Wizard  of  the 
North ! 

Here  we  are  at  a  hotel  on  Princes  Street,  right  opposite  the 
Scott  Monument,  a  graceful  structure  of  Gothic  arches  and 
pinnacles,  and  enshrining  a  figure  of  Sir  Walter  and  his  favor- 
ite dog.  The  view,  seen  from  Princes  Street,  reminds  one 
very  much  of  the  pictures  of  Athens  Restored,  with  its  beau- 
tiful public  buildings  of  Grecian  architecture.  Between 
Princes  Street,  which  is  in  the  new,  and  the  old  city  is  a  deep 
ravine  or  valley,  as  it  were,  now  occupied  by  the  tracks  of  the 
railroad,  and  spanned  by  great  stone-arched  bridges.    An  im- 


48  HISTOEIC    STREETS. 

mense  embankment,  called  the  Mound,  also  connects  the  old 
and  new  city,  its  slopes  descending  east  and  west  into  beauti- 
ful gardens  towards  the  road-bed.  Upon  the  Mound  are  the 
Royal  Institution,  Gallery  of  Fine  Arts,  the  former  a  sort  of 
Pantheon-looking  building,  and  both  with  plenty  of  space 
around  them,  so  that  they  look  as  if  placed  there  expressly  to 
be  seen  and  admired. 

Princes  Street,  which  is  one  of  the  finest  in  Great  Britain, 
runs  east  and  west.  It  is  entirely  open  upon  the  south  side, 
and  separated  only  by  a  railing  from  the  lovely  gardens  that 
run  down  into  the  hollow  I  have  mentioned,  between  the  old 
and  new  town.  Looking  across  the  hollow,  we  see  the  old 
city,  where  the  historic  steeples  of  St.  Giles  and  others  mingle 
among  the  lofty  houses  in  the  extended  panoramic  view,  the 
eastern  end  of  which  is  completed  by  the  almost  impregnable 
old  castle,  rich  in  historic  interest,  which  lifts  its  battlements 
from  its  rocky  seat  two  hundred  feet  above  the  surrounding 
country,  and  is  a  grand  and  picturesque  object.  The  city, 
both  old  and  new,  appears  to  be  built  of  stone  resembling  our 
darkest  granite.  The  old  town  is  built  upon  a  ridge,  gradu- 
ally ascending  towards  the  castle,  and  is  a  curious  old  place, 
with  its  lofty  eight  and  ten-story  houses,  its  narrow  lanes, 
called  "  wynds,"  or  "  closes,"  and  swarming  population. 

The  "  closes  "  are  curious  affairs,  being  sort  of  narrow  en- 
closures, running  up  in  between  lofty  buildings,  with  only  one 
place  of  ingress  and  egress,  that  could,  in  old  times,  be  closed 
by  a  portcullis,  the  remains  of  some  of  them  being  still  in  ex- 
istence, and  were  built  as  defences  against  incursions  of  the 
Highlanders. 

Here  in  the  old  town  are  many  streets,  the  names  of  which 
will  be  recognized  by  all  familiar  with  Scott  —  the  High 
Street,  Grass  Market,  Cow  Gate,  and  Canon  Gate.  We 
went,  one  afternoon,  and  stood  in  the  Grass  Market,  amid  a 
seething  mass  of  humanity  that  fills  it.  Lofty  old  houses  rise 
high  about  on  all  sides,  every  one  with  a  history,  and  some  of 
them  two  or  three  hundred  years  old  —  houses  the  windows 
of  which  were  oft  packed  with  eager  faces  to  see  the  criminal 


EDINBURGH    CASTLE.  49 

executions  here.  Some  of  these  houses,  Scott  says  in  his 
Heart  of  Mid-Lothian,  were  formerly  the  property  of  the 
Knights  Templars  and  Knights  of  St.  John,  and  still  exhibit, 
on  their  points  and  gables,  the  cross  of  those  orders  in  iron  — 
houses  that  looked  down  on  the  furious  mob  that  hung  Cap- 
tain Porteous  upon  the  dyer's  pole,  over  the  very  spot  where  we 
stood.  Then,  walking  down  towards  the  other  extremity,  Ave 
entered  the  Canon  Gate,  extending  down  the  hill  towards 
Holyrood  Palace  —  Canon  Gate,  which  was  the  residence  of 
the  wealthy  canons  of  the  church  when  Holyrood  was  an  ab- 
bey, and  after  the  Reformation  the  abode  of  the  Scottish 
aristocracy.  At  one  end  of  the  old  city  stands  Holyrood,  at 
the  other  the  castle  rock  rears  its  rushed  height. 

The  new  city  is  beautifully  laid  out  in  broad  streets  and 
squares,  which  are  adorned  with  imposing  buildings,  monu- 
ments, and  bronze  statues  of  celebrated  men ;  but  I  am  not 
to  give  a  guide-book  description  of  Edinburgh,  although  there' 
is  so  much  that  interests  in  its  streets  and  buildings  that  one 
is  almost  tempted  to  do  so. 

The  very  first  visit  one  desires  to  make  is  to  the  lofty  old 
castle  that  overlooks  the  city.  It  is  situated  on  an  elevated 
basaltic  rock,  and  is  separated  from  the  town  by  an  esplanade 
about  three  hundred  feet  wide,  and  three  hundred  and  fifty 
long.  The  castle  is  said  to  have  been  founded  in  the  year 
617,  and  contains  many  curious  relics  of  antiquity,  and  is 
fraught  with  historic  interest,  having  been  the  scene  of  so 
many  crimes,  romantic  adventures,  captivities,  and  sieges, 
within  the  past  three  or  four  hundred  years — scenes  that  have 
been  the  most  vivid  in  the  pages  of  history,  and  formed  an 
almost  inexhaustible  theme  for  the  most  graphic  pictures  of 
the  novelist. 

Among  the  most  notable  captures  will  be  recollected  that 
of  the  Earl  of  Randolph,  nepheAv  to  Robert  Bruce.  And  also, 
when  in  the  possession  of  the  English  King  Edward  L,  thirty 
brave  fellows,  guided  by  a  young  man  called  William  Frank, 
Avho  had  often  climbed  up  and  down  the  Castle  Rock  to  visit 
his  SAveetheart,  ventured  one  night,. in  their  heavy  iron  armor, 
4 


50  BONNIE   DUNDEE. 

with  their  swords  and  axes,  to  scale  the  most  precipitous  side 
overhanging  the  West  Princes  Street  Gardens,  and,  succeed- 
ing, quickly  overcame  the  garrison.  In  1341,  when  the  castle 
was  again  held  by  the  English,  Sir  William  Douglas  and  Sir 
Simon  Fraser  took  it  by  stratagem  and  surprise  in  broad  day- 
light, having  sent  in  a  cart  loaded  with  wine,  Avhich  was  dex- 
terously overturned  in  the  gateway,  so  that  the  gate  could 
not  be  closed  when  the  Scottish  soldiers  rushed  forward  to 
the  attack. 

The  broad  esplanade  before  the  castle  affords  a  fine  view, 
and  is  used  as  a  place  for  drilling  the  troops,  the  castle  having 
accommodations  for  two  thousand  men.  We  passed  across 
this,  and  by  the  statue  of  the  Duke  of  York,  son  of  George 
III.,  and  uncle  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  the  monumental  cross, 
erected  in  memory  of  the  officers  of  the  Highland  regiment 
who  fell  in  the  years  1857  and  1858,  in  the  Indian  Rebellion 
War.  On  over  the  moat  and  draw-bridge,  and  through  the 
old  portcullis  gate,  over  which  was  the  old  prison  in  which 
the  Earl  of  Argyle,  and  numerous  adherents  of  the  Stuarts, 
were  confined  previous  to  their  execution,  and  after  passing 
beneath  this,  were  fairly  within  the  castle.  One  point  of  in- 
terest was  the  old  sally-port,  up  which  Dundee  climbed  to 
have  a  conference  with  the  Duke  of  Gordon,  when  on  his  way 
to  raise  the  Highland  clans  in  favor  of  King  James  II.,  while 
the  convention  were  assembled  in  the  Parliament  House,  and 
were  proceeding  to  settle  the  crown  upon  William  and  Mary. 

Dundee,  accompanied  by  only  thirty  picked  mem  rode 
swiftly  along  a  street  in  the  old  city,  nearly  parallel  to  the 
present  line  of  Princes  Street,  while  the  drums  in  the  town 
were  beating  to  arms  to  pursue  him  ;  and  leaving  his  men  in 
a  by-place,  clambered  up  the  steep  rock  at  this  point,  and 
urged  the  duke  to  accompany  him,  but  without  effect.  Scott's 
song  of  "Bonnie  Dundee"  tells  us, — 

"  Dundee  he  is  mounted,  he  rides  up  the  street, 
The  bells  they  ring  backward,  the  drums  they  are  beat ; 
But  the  provost,  deuce  man  !  said,  '  Just  e'en  let  him  be, 
For  the  town  is  well  rid  of  that  de'il  o'  Dundee.'  " 


ROOMS    OF   HISTORIC    STORY.  51 

Dundee  rode  off  towards  Stirling,  with  the  threat  that, — 

"If  there's  lords  in  the  Southland,  there's  chiefs  in  the  North; 
There  are  wild  dunnie  wassals,  three  thousand  times  three, 
Will  cry,  '  Hey  for  the  bonnets  of  Bonnie  Dundee  ! '  " 

From  what  is  known  as  the  Bomb  Battery  an  excellent 
view  of  Edinburgh  is  obtained.  Here  is  a  curious  piece  of 
early  artillery,  of  huge  size,  designated  Mons  Meg,  made  at 
Mons  in  Brittany,  in  1476,  of  thick  iron  bars  hooped  together, 
and  twenty  inches  diameter  at  the  bore.  Near  this  is  the 
Chapel  of  Queen  Margaret,  a  little  Norman  building  eight 
hundred  years  old,  used  by  Margaret,  Queen  of  Malcolm  III., 
daughter  of  Edward  the  Outlaw,  and  granddaughter  of  Ed- 
mund Ironside,  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  disputed  the 
crown  of  England  for  so  many  years  with  Canute. 

One  of  the  most  interesting,  as  well  as  one  of  the  oldest 
rooms,  was  a  little  irregular-shaped  apartment,  known  as 
Queen  Mary's  Room,  being  the  room  in  which  James  VI. 
was  born,  in  1566.  The  original  ceiling  remains,  with  the 
initials  J.  R.  and  M.  R.,  surmounted  by  a  crown,  and  wrought 
into  the  panels.  From  the  window  of  this  little  room,  it  is 
said,  the  infant  king  was  let  down  to  the  street,  two  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  below,  by  means  of  a  rope  and  basket,  and  car- 
ried off  secretly  to  Stirling  Castle,  to  be  baptized  in  the  Ro- 
man Catholic  faith.  When  James  made  his  first  visit  to  Scot- 
land, in  1617,  after  his  accession  to  the  English  throne,  he 
caused  the  royal  arms  to  be  elaborately  painted  on  the  wall, 
and  underneath  his  mother's  prayer,  which  still  remains  in 
quaint  old  English  letters,  somewhat  difficult  to  decipher :  — 

"  Lord  Jesu  Chryst  that  crownit  was  with  Thornse 
Preserve  the  birth  quhais  Badyie  heir  is  borne. 
And  send  hir  Sonne  successive  to  reigne  stille 
Lang  in  this  Realme,  if  that  it  be  Thy  will. 
Als  grant  0  Lord  quhat  ever  of  Hir  proseed 
Be  to  Thy  Glorie,  Honer  and  Prais  sobied." 

The  view  from  the  windows,  here  at  the  east  and  south 


52  THE    SCOTTISH   EEGALIA. 

sides  of  the  old  castle,  is  varied  and  romantic.  The  curious 
old  houses  in  the  Grass  Market,  far  down  below ;  the  quaint, 
blackened  old  streets  of  the  old  city ;  the  magnificent  towers 
of  Herriot's  Hospital  against  the  blue  sky ;  and  stretching 
beyond  the  city,  the  fine  landscape,  with  the  familiar  Borough 
moor,  where  the  Scottish  hosts  were  wont  to  muster  by  clans 
and  chieftains,  —  form  a  scene  of  picturesque  beauty  not  soon 
forgotten. 

The  armory  of  the  castle  contains  many  interesting  weap- 
ons of  ancient  warfare.  Anions;  the  most  notable  was  a  coat 
of  mail  worn  by  one  of  the  Douglases  in  Cromwell's  time ; 
Rob  Roy's  dagger;  some  beautiful  steel  pistols,  used  by  some 
of  the  Highland  followers  of  Prince  Charles  Stuart  at  the 
battle  of  Culloden;  and  cuirasses  worn  by  the  French  cui- 
rassiers at  "Waterloo.  The  crown  room  contains  the  regalia 
of  Scotland,  and  the  celebrated  crown  of  Robert  Bruce. 
The  regalia  of  Scotland  consist  of  a  crown,  sceptre,  and 
sword  of  state,  the  latter  a  most  beautiful  piece  of  workman- 
ship, the  scabbard  elegantly  ornamented  with  chased  and 
wrought  work,  representing  oak  leaves  and  acorns,  and  which 
was  a  present  from  Pope  Julius  II.  to  James  IV.  Particular 
interest  attaches  to  these  regalia,  from  the  fact  of  their  discov- 
ery through  Scott's  exertions,  in  1818,  after  a  disappearance 
of  about  one  hundred  and  eleven  years.  The  crown  is  the  dia- 
dem that  pressed  the  valiant  brow  of  Robert  the  Bruce,  and 
the  devoted  head  of  Mary,  and  was  placed  upon  the  infant 
brow  of  her  son.  Charles  II.  was  the  last  monarch  who 
wore  this  regal  emblem,  which  is  connected  with  so  many 
stirring  events  in  Scottish  history. 

From  Edinburgh  Castle,  a  gradually  descending  walk, 
through  some  of  the  most  interesting  portions  of  the  old 
city,  will  take  the  visitor  to  Holyrood  Palace  and  Abbey,  — 
quite  a  distance,  but  which  should  be  walked  rather  than 
rode,  if  the  tourist  is  a  pedestrian  of  moderate  powers,  as  it 
is  thronged  with  so  many  points  of  historic  interest,  to  which 
I  can  only  make  a  passing  allusion.  The  High  Street,  as  it  is 
called,  is  one  of  the  principal  through  which  we  pass,  and  in 


CURIOSITIES    OF   THE    OLD    CITY.  53 

old  times  was  considered  very  fine ;  but  its  glory  departed 
with  the  building  of  the  new  portion  of  the  city,  and  the 
curious  old  "  closes,"  in  the  streets  diverging  from  it,  are  the 
habitations  of  the  lowest  class  of  the  population. 

Bow  Street,  which,  if  I  remember  rightly,  runs  into  Grass 
Market  from  High  Street,  was  formerly  known  as  West  Bow, 
from  an  arch  or  bow  in  the  city  wall.  We  passed  clown  this 
1  quaint  old  street,  which  used  to  be  the  principal  avenue  by 
which  carriages  reached  the  upper  part  of  the  city.  It  was 
a  curve  of  lofty  houses,  filthy  kennels,  anYl  noisy  children, 
spirit-shops,  groceries,  and  garbage;  yet  up  this  street  had 
ridden,  in  old  times,  Anne  of  Denmark,  James  I.,  Charles  I., 
Oliver  Cromwell,  Charles  II.,  and  James  II.  It  was  down 
this  street  that  the  Earl  of  Argyle  and  Marquis  of  Montrose 
were  dragged,  in  the  hangman's  cart,  to  execution  in  the 
Grass  Market,  which  is  situated  at  its  foot,  and  to  which  I 
have  previously  alluded.  Porteous  was  also  dragged  down 
through  this  street  to  execution,  by  the  rioters  who  took  him 
from  his  jailers. 

In  the  old  city  we  visited  a  court  called  Dunbar's  Close, 
where,  after  the  victory  of  Dunbar,  some  of  Cromwell's  sol- 
diers Avere  quartered.  Here  remains  a  carved  inscription, 
said  to  bear  the  oldest  date  in  the  city.    It  reads  as  follows : 

U  fat'tlj  fa  ffifjrist. 
©nlte  Sabit,  tfHBGME 

St.  Giles  Church,  in  High  Street,  is  a  notable  building,  and 
was,  in  popish  times,  the  cathedral  of  the  city,  named  after 
St.  Giles,  Edinburgh's  patron  saint.  I  will  not  tire  the  reader 
with  a  visit  to  its  interior ;  but  it  was  here  that  took  place 
that  incident,  which  every  school-boy  recollects,  of  Jenny 
Geddes  throwing  her  stool  at  the  head  of  the  officiating  cler- 
gyman,  upon  his  attempt  to  read  the  liturgy  as  prescribed  by 
Archbishop  Laud,  and  which  it  was  proposed  to  introduce 
into  Scotland. 

The  "  Solemn  League  and  Covenant "  was  sworn  to  and 
signed  in  this  church,  in  1643.    Just  within  the  railings  sur- 


54  HOLYKOOD   PALACE. 

rounding  the  old  church  stands  the  shaft  of  the  old  cross  of 
Edinburgh ;  and  the  site  of  the  Tollbooth,  which  figures  in 
Scott's  novels,  is  marked,  near  by,  by  the  figure  of  a  heart  in 
the  pavement  —  "The  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian."  Numerous 
other  points  of  historic  interest  might  be  enumerated,  did 
space  permit.  We  must,  as  we  pass  rapidly  on,  not  forget 
to  take  a  view  of  the  quaint  old  rookery-looking  mansion  of 
John  Knox,  the  Reformer,  with  a  steep  flight  of  steps,  leading 
up  to  a  door  high  above  the  sidewalk,  and  the  inscription 
upon  it,  which  I*  could  not  read,  but  which  I  was  informed  was 

3Lufe  ©oo  abobe  all,  ana 
Hour  !NnflP0uf  as  Hourstlf, 

and  the  massive-looking  old  Canon  Gate  Tollbooth,  erected  in 
the  reign  of  James  VI.  On  we  go  through  the  Canon  Gate, 
till  we  emerge  in  the  open  space  in  front  of  that  ancient 
dwelling-place  of  Scottish  royalty,  Holyrood  Palace. 

Holyrood  Palace  is  interesting  from  the  numerous  important 
events  in  Scottish  history  that  have  transpired  within  its 
walls.  It  is  a  great  quadrangular  building,  with  a  court-yard 
ninety-four  feet  square.  Its  front  is  flanked  with  double  cas- 
tellated towers,  the  tops  peaked,  and  looking  something  like 
the  lid  of  an  old-fashioned  coffee-pot,  or  an  inverted  tin  tun- 
nel, with  the  pipe  cut  off.  The  embellishments  in  front  of 
the  entrance  to  the  palace  and  the  beautiful  fountain  were 
completed  under  the  direction,  and  at  the  expense,  of  the  late 
Prince  Albert.  The  palace  is  said  to  have  been  founded  by 
James  IV.,  quite  early  in  the  year  1500,  and  it  Avas  his  chief 
residence  up  to  the  time  of  his  death,  at  Flodden,  in  1513. 
Some  of  the  events  that  give  it  its  historic  celebrity  are 
those  that  transpired  during  the  life  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots, 
who  made  it  her  ordinary  residence  after  her  return  to  her 
native  country,  in  1561.  It  was  here  that  Mary  was  mar- 
ried to  Darnley,  and  we  were  shown  the  piece  of  stone  flag- 
ging upon  which  they  knelt  during  the  ceremony,  and  which 
we  profaned  with  our  own  knees,  with  true  tourist  fervor; 
here  that  Rizzio,  or,  as  they  spell  it  in  Scotland,  Riccio,  was 


GOING   INTO    IIOLYROOD.  55 

murdered  in  her  very  presence ;  here  that  she  man  led  Both- 
well,  endured  those  .fiery  discussions  with  the  Scotch  Re- 
formers, and  wept  at  the  rude  and  coarse  upbraidings  of 
John  Knox ;  here  that  James  VI.  brought  his  queen,  Anne 
of  Denmark,  in  1590,  and  had  her  crowned  in  the  chapel ; 
here,  also,  was  Charles  I.  crowned,  and  here,  after  the  battle 
of  Dunbar,  in  1650,  did  Cromwell  quarter  a  part  of  his  forces. 

In  modern  times,  George  IV.  visited  the  palace  in  1822, 
granting,  after  his  departure,  over  twenty  thousand  pounds 
for  repairs  and  improvements;  and  in  1850,  Queen  Victoria, 
Prince  Albert,  and  the  royal  children  made  a  visit  there,  and 
since  that  time  she  stops  annually  on  her  way  to  and  from 
her  Highland  residence  at  the  Castle  of  Balmoral,  for  a  brief 
period  here  at  old  Holyrood. 

To  those  familiar  at  all,  from  reading  history  or  the  ro- 
mances and  poems,  with  those  events  in  which  this  old  pile 
occupies  a  prominent  position,  it  of  course  possesses  a  great 
interest. 

In  the  broad,  open  space  before  the  palace,  the  elaborate 
fountain,  with  its  floriated  pinnacles,  figures,  &c,  will  attract 
attention,  although  it  ill  accords  with  the  old  buildings. 
The  most  interesting  apartments  in  the  palace  are  those  of 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots. 

Passing  in  at  the  entrance  gate,  and  buying  tickets  at  a 
little  office  very  much  like  a  theatrical  ticket  office,  we  visited 
the  more  ancient  part  of  the  palace,  and  entered  first  Lord 
Darnley's  rooms.  These  were  hung  with  fine  specimens  of 
ancient  tapestry,  upon  which  Cupids  are  represented  plucking 
fruit,  and  throwing  it  down  to  others ;  oak  trees  and  leaves, 
Cupids  plucking  grapes,  &c.  Another  scene  was  a  lake  and 
castle,  with  fruit  trees  and  Cupids;  also  figures  of  nude 
youngsters,  turning  somersaults  and  performing  different 
antics.  Another  room  contains  two  pieces  of  tapestry,  tell- 
ing the  story  of  the  flaming  cross  that  appeared  to  Constan- 
tine  the  Great,  the  motto,  In  hoc  signo  vmces,  embroidered 
on  the  corner  of  the  hangings  ;  Darnley's  elegant  armor,  &c. 
Other  fine  pieces  of  tapestry  are  in  Darnley's  bed-room  and 


5G  RELICS    OF    THE   TAST. 

dressing-room.  Portraits  of  Scottish  kings  also  adorn  the 
walls. 

"We  were  then  shown  Queen  Mary's  private  staircase,  that 
by  which  Darnley  admitted  the  conspirators  up  from  a  little 
turret  room  to  assassinate  Rizzio.  Mary's  audience  chamber 
is  a  room  about  twenty  feet  square,  the  ceiling  divided  into 
panelled  compartments,  adorned  with  initials  and  armorial 
bearings,  and  the  walls  hung  with  tapestry,  upon  which  were 
wrought  various  scenes,  now  sadly  faded  by  the  withering 
breath  of  time.  These  tapestry  hangings  the  curious  traveller 
soon  becomes  accustomed  to,  and  the  more,  I  think,,  one  sees 
of  them,  the  more  he  admires  them  —  the  scenes  of  ancient 
mythology  or  allegorical  design  so  beautifully  wrought  as  to 
rival  even  oil  paintings  in  beauty  of  color  and  design,  and 
exciting  a  wonder  at  the  skill  and  labor  that  were  expended 
in  producing  with  many  colored  threads  these  wondrous  loom 
mosaics.  In  the  audience  chamber  stands  the  bed  of  Charles 
I.,  and  upon  this  couch  Prince  Charles,  the  unfortunate  de- 
scendant of  the  former  occupant,  slept  in  September,  1745, 
and  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  his  conqueror,  rested  upon  the 
same  couch.  Cumberland,  yes,  we  recollect  him ;  he  figured 
in  Lochiel's  Warning,  Campbell's  beautiful  poem  — 

"  Proud  Cumberland  prances,  insulting  the  slain." 

Some  rich  old  chairs  of  the  same  period,  and  other  furniture, 
are  also  in  this  room,  which  was  the  scene  of  Mary's  alterca- 
tion with  Knox. 

Looking  upon  the  antiqiae  bed,  one  can  see  how,  despite 
care,  the  hand  of  time  leaves  its  indelible  impress  upon  all 
that  is  of  man's  creation.  You  can  scarcely  imagine  how 
time  affects  an  old  state  bed.  No  matter  what  be  the  care 
or  exclusion  from  sunlight,  the  breath  of  time  leaves  its  mark; 
the  canopy  and  hangings  gradually  fade  and  deaden,  the  very 
life  seems  to  be  extracted,  and  they  look  like  an  old  piece  of 
husk  or  dried  toast,  light,  porous,  and  moulding ;  the  wood- 
work, however,  grows  dark,  and  apparently  as  solid  as  iron  ; 
the  quaint  carving  stands  out  in  jetty  polish,  rich  and  luxuri- 


HOLYROOD   ABBEY.  57 

ant  —  a  study  and  a  wonder  of  curious  and  fantastic  art  and 
sculpture  in  wood. 

Queen  Mary's  room  is  hung  with  a  beautiful  piece  of  tap- 
estry, representing  the  fall  of  Phaeton ;  half  hidden  by  this 
tapestry  is  the  door  opening  upon  the  secret  stair  by  which 
Rizzio's  murderers  entered ;  \ipon  the  wall  hang  portraits  of 
Mary  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  portraits  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and 
King  Henry  VIII.,  presented  her  by  Elizabeth;  here  also 
was  furniture  used  by  the  queen,  and  the  baby  linen  basket 
sent  her  by  Elizabeth. 

From  here  we  enter  that  oft-described  apartment  so  cele- 
brated in  Scottish  history  —  the  queen's  supper  room,  where 
Rizzio  was  murdered.  Its  small  size  generally  excites  as- 
tonishment. Here,  into  this  little  room,  which  half  a  dozen  per- 
sons would  fill,  rushed  the  armed  conspirators,  overturning 
the  table  and  dragging  their  shrieking  victim  from  the  very 
feet  of  the  queen,  as  he  clung  to  her  dress  for  protection, 
stabbing  him  as  they  went  beneath  her  very  eyes,  forcing 
him  out  into  the  audience  chamber,  and  left  him  with  over 
fifty  ghastly  wounds,  from  which  his  life  ebbed  in  a  crimson 
torrent,  leaving  its  ineffaceable  stain,  the  indelible  mark  upon 
the  oaken  floor,  not  more  indelible  than  the  blackened  stain 
which  rests  upon  the  names  of  the  perpetrators  of  this  brutal 
murder. 

Adown  the  little  staircase  which  the  conspirators  passed, 
we  go  through  a  low  door  into  the  court-yard.  Over  the 
top  of  this  little  door,  a  few  years  ago,  in  a  crevice  of  the 
masonry,  an  antique  dagger-blade  was  discovered  by  some 
workmen ;  and  as  the  murderers  escaped  through  this  door,  it 
was  surmised  that  this  was  one  of  the  very  daggers  used  in 
the  assassination. 

But  we  leave  the  place  behind,  and  enter  the  romantic 
ruins  of  the  old  abbey.  How  interesting  are  these  picturesque 
ruined  remains  of  the  former  glory  and  power  of  the  church 
of  Rome  in  England  !  Their  magnificent  proportions,  heauty 
of  architecture,  and  exquisite  decoration  bespeak  the  wealth 
of  the  church  and  the  wondrous  taste  of  those  who  reared 


58  A   ROMANTIC   EUIN". 

these  piles,  which,  in  their  very  ruin,  command  our  admrra 
tion.  The  abbey  is  immediately  adjoining  the  palace, —  its 
front  a  beautiful  style  of  early  English  architecture,  and 
the  noble,  high-arched  door,  with  cluster  pillars,  elaborately 
sculptured  with  fretwork  figures  of  angels,  flowers,  vines,  &c, 
—  one  of  those  specimens  of  stone  carving  that  excite  wonder 
at  the  amount  of  patient  work,  labor,  and  skill  that  must  have 
been  required  in  their  production. 

The  abbey  was  founded  in  1128,  and  the  fragment  which 
remains  formed  the  nave  of  the  ancient  building.  Here  are 
the  graves  of  David  II.,  James  II.,  Darnley,  and  that  of  the 
ill-starred  Rizzio,  and  other  eminent  personages,  some  of 
whom,  judging  from  the  ornaments  upon  the  marble  slabs 
of  their  graves,  were  good  Freemasons  and  Knights  Tem- 
plars, —  the  perfect  ashler,  settiug  maul,  and  square  upon  the 
former,  and  the  rude-cut  figures  of  reclining  knights,  with 
crossed  feet  and  upraised  hands,  upon  others,  indicating  the 
fact. 

But  the  gairish  sun  shines  boldly  down  into  the  very  centre 
of  what  was  once  the  dim-lighted,  solemn  old  abbey,  with 
its  cool,  quiet  cloisters,  that  scarce  echoed  to  the  monk's 
sandalled  footstep,  and  the  gracefully-pointed  arches,  sup- 
ported  by  clusters  of  stone  pillars,  throw  their  quaint  shadows 
on  the  greensward,  now,  where  was  once  the  chapel's  stone 
pavement ;  the  great  arched  window  through  which  the  light 
once  fell  in  shattered  rainbows  to  the  floor,  stands  now,  slender 
and  weird-like,  with  its  tracery  against  the  heaven,  like  a 
skeleton  of  the  past ;  and  the  half-obliterated  or  undecipher- 
able vain-glorious  inscriptions  upon  the  slabs,  here  and  there, 
are  all  that  remain  of  this  monument  of  man's  power  and 
pride  —  a  monument  beautiful  in  its  very  ruins,  and  romantic 
from  the  halo  of  associations  of  the  dim  past  that  surround  it. 

The  new  city,  to  which  I  have  referred,  is  a  creation  of  the 
last  hundred  years,  the  plans  of  it  being  published  in  1768. 
The  two  great  streets  are  George  Street  and  Princes  Street, 
the  former  filled  with  fine  stores,  and  adorned  with  statues  of 
William  Pitt,  George  IV.,  and  many  public  buildings  and 
beautiful  squares. 


PAN011AMIC    VIEW    OF   EDINBURGH.  59 

Here,  in  Edinburgh,  we  began  to  hear  the  "burr"  of  the 
Scotch  tongue.  Many  of  the  salesmen  in  the  stores  where 
tourists  go  to  buy  Scotch  linen  or  Scotch  pebble  jewelry,  the 
Scotch  plaids  which  were  temptingly  displayed,  or  the  warm 
underclothing  which  New  Englanders  appreciate,  seemed  to 
have  their  tongues  roughened,  as  it  were,  to  a  sort  of  pleasant 
whir-r  in  speaking  the  English  language. 

Up  from  one  end  of  Princes  Street  rises  Calton  Hill,  with 
its  unfinished  national  monument,  designed  to  represent  the 
classical  Parthenon  at  Athens;  and  in  one  respect  it  does, 
being  a  sort  of  ruin,  or,  I  may  say,  a  fragment  of  ruin,  con- 
sisting of  a  dozen  splendid  Doric  columns,  —  for  the  monu- 
ment which  was  to  commemorate  the  Scotchmen  who  fell  at 
Waterloo  was  never  finished.  Here  also  is  a  round  monument 
to  Nelson,  and  a  dome,  supported  by  pillars,  a  monument 
to  Professor  Dugald  Stewart;  while  a  monument  to  Burns 
is  seen  upon  the  Regent's  Road,  close  at  hand.  The  view 
of  the  long  vista  of  Princes  Street  from  Calton  Hill,  in  which 
the  eye  can  take  in  at  one  sweep  the  Scott  monument,  the 
splendid  classical-looking  structures  of  the  Royal  Institution 
and  National  Gallery,  the  great  castle  on  its  rocky  perch, 
and  then  turning  about  on  the  other  side  and  viewing  the 
square,  solid  old  palace  of  Holyrood,  with  the  fragment  of 
ruined  abbey  attached,  and  rising  high  above  them  the  emi- 
nence known  as  Arthur's  Seat,  and  the  winding  cliffs  of  Salis- 
bury Crags,  forms  a  panoramic  scene  of  rare  beauty  and  in- 
terest. 

Speaking  of  interest,  I  cannot  leave  Edinburgh  without 
referring  to  the  interesting  collection  of  curious  relics  at  the 
Antiquarian  Museum.  Think  of  standing  in  John  Knox's 
pulpit,  and  thumping,  with  your  curious,  wonder-seeking  hand, 
the  same  desk  that  had  held  his  Bible,  or  been  smitten  by  his 
indignant  palm,  as  he  denounced  the  church  of  Rome,  nearly 
three  hundred  years  ago ;  of  looking  upon  the  very  stool  that 
Jenny  Geddes  launched  at  the  head  of  the  Dean  of  St.  Giles, 
when  he  undertook  to  introduce  the  liturgy  into  Scotland,  in 
1565;  and  seeing  one  of  the  very  banners  of  the  Covenanters 


60  ANTIQUARIAN   MUSEUM. 

that  had  been  borne  amid  the  smoke  and  fire  of  their  battles ; 
nay,  there,  in  a  glass  case,  we  saw  the  old  Scotch  Covenant 
itself,  with  the  signatures  of  Montrose,  Lothian,  and  their 
associates.  Here  also  were  Gustavus  Adolphus's  spurs,  Rob- 
ert Burns's  pistols,  the  very  glass  that  Prince  Charlie  drank 
from  before  the  disastrous  battle  of  Culloden;  the  origi- 
nal draft  of  inquiry  into  the  massacre  of  Glencoe,  dated 
1650,  original  autographic  letters  from  Charles  VI.,  Prince 
Charles  Edward  Stuart,  Cromwell,  and  Mary,  Queen  of 
Scots.  This  was  reading  Scottish  history  from  the  original 
documents. 

Here  was  the  flag  of  Scotland  that  flouted  the  breeze  at  the 
battle  of  Dunbar,  in  1650,  the  pikes  of  Charles  II.'s  pikemen, 
and  the  old  Scottish  six-ell  spears ;  nails  from  the  coffin  and 
a  portion  of  the  very  shroud  of  Robert  Bruce,  the  blue  ribbon 
of  Prince  Charlie,  worn  as  Knight  of  the  Garter,  in  1745,  and 
the  very  ring  given  to  him  by  Flora  Macdonald  at  parting. 
Among  the  horrors  of  the  collection  is  "  the  Maiden,"  a  rude 
guillotine  of  two  upright  posts,  between  which  a  loaded  axe 
blade  was  hoisted  by  a  cord,  and  let  fall  upon  the  devoted 
neck  beneath.  By  this  very  instrument  fell  the  Regent  Mor- 
ton, in  1581,  Sir  John  Gordon,  in  1644,  the  Earl  of  Argyle,  in 
1685,  and  many  others  —  a  bloody  catalogue. 

The  collection  of  ancient  implements,  coins,  seals,  medal- 
lions, weapons,  &c,  was  interesting  as  well  as  valuable  and 
extensive,  comprising  many  that  have  been  exhumed  from 
ancient  ruins,  and  antique  relics,  more  or  less  connected  with 
the  history  of  the  country.  The  Free  National  Gallery  con- 
tains a  noble  collection  of  elegant  pictures  by  eminent  artists 
of  old  and  modem  times,  and  a  fine  statue  of  Burns. 

The  ride  up  Salisbury  Crags  to  the  eminence  known  as 
Arthur's  Seat,  which  rises  behind  Holyrood  eight  hundred 
feet  high,  is  one  of  the  great  attractions  to  the  tourist ;  the 
drive  to  it  by  the  fine  carriage  road,  known  as  "Queen's 
Drive,"  is  delightful,  and  the  view  of  the  city  and  surrounding 
country  from  the  elevated  road  very  picturesque.  There  is  a 
romantic  little  path  here,  on  Salisbury  Crags,  running  by  the 


SCOTT   AND    SCOTLAND.  61 

ruins  of  St.  Anthony's  Chapel,  that  Walter  Scott  used  to 
walk  when  working  out  the  plot  of  some  of  his  novels,  and 
the  now  broad  road  was  then  but  a  winding  path  up  the 
crags ;  the  chapel,  it  will  be  remembered,  figures  in  the  Heart 
of  Mid-Lothian. 

The  elegant  monument,  nearly  in  front  of  the  Royal  Hotel, 
in  the  Princes  Street  Gardens,  erected  in  memory  of  Walter 
Scott,  and  known  as  the  Scott  Monument,  is  familiar  to  most 
American  readers,  from  engravings.  It  is  a  splendid  Gothic 
tower,  and  said  to  be  "a  recollection  of  the  architectural 
beauties  of  Melrose  Abbey." 

I  cannot  help  reflecting  here,  in  the  native  land  of  Scott, 
what  the  present  generation  owes  to  him  for  preserving  the 
history,  traditions,  and  romance  of  their  country  to  undying 
fame;  for  investing  them  with  new  interest  to  the  whole 
civilized  world ;  for  strengthening  Scottish  national  traits, 
inculcating  new  pride  to  preserve  the  relics  of  their  bravery 
and  noble  deeds  among  all  classes,  high  and  low. 

Thousands  and  thousands  of  the  Scotch  people  are  to-day 
indebted  to  the  labors  of  this  indefatigable,  industrious,  and 
wonderful  man  for  their  daily  bread.  I  have  been  through 
enormous  publishing  houses  here,  or,  I  might  more  appropri- 
ately style  them,  vast  book  factories,  where  editions  of  his 
works,  in  every  conceivable  style,  are  issued.  Year  after  year 
the  never-tiring  press  throws  off  the  same  sheets,  and  yet  the 
public  arc  unsatisfied,  and  call  for  more  ;  new  readers  step 
yearly  into  the  ranks  vacated  by  those  who  went  before  them ; 
and  the  rattle  of  the  press  readily  beats  to  quarters,  each  sea- 
son, a  fresh  army  of  recruits. 

The  poems,  couplets,  pictures,  carved  relics,  guide-books, 
museums,  ruins,  &c,  which  his  magic  pen  has  made  profitable 
property,  are  something  marvellous.  Fashions  of  brooches, 
jewelry,  plaids,  dress,  and  ornaments  to-day  owe  their  popu- 
larity to  his  pen,  and  what  would  be  forgotten  ruins,  nameless 
huts,  or  uninviting  wastes,  it  has  made  the  Meccas  of  travel- 
lers from  all  nations. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  latter  fact,  I  met  a  man  upon  the 


62  HAWTHORNDEN". 

battlements  of  Edinburgh  Castle,  from  Cape  Town,  Africa, 
whose  parents  were  Scotch,  but  who  for  years  had  been  an 
exile,  who  in  far  distant  countries  had  read  Scott's  TVaverley 
novels  and  Scott's  poems  till  the  one  wish  of  his  heart  was  to 
see  old  Scotland  and  those  scenes  with  which  the  Wizard  of 
the  North  had  inflamed  his  imagination,  and  who  now,  at  fifty 
years  of  age,  looked  upon  his  native  land  the  first  time  since, 
when  a  boy  of  eight  years,  he 

"  ran  about  the  braes, 
And  pu'd  the  gowans  fine." 

He  was  now  realizing  the  enjoyment  he  had  so  many  years 
longed  for,  —  looking  upon  the  scenes  he  had  heard  his  father 
tell  and  his  mother  sing  of,  enjoying  the  reward  of  many 
years  of  patient  toil,  made  lighter  by  the  anticipation  of  visit- 
ing the  home  of  his  fathers ;  and  I  was  gratified  to  find  that, 
unlike  the  experiences  of  many  who  are  so  long  in  exile,  the 
realization  of  his  hopes  was  "  all  his  fancy  painted  "  it,  and  he 
enjoyed  all  with  a  keen  relish  and  enthusiastic  fervor. 

It  is  a  pleasant  seven  mile  ride  from  Edinburgh  out  to  Ross- 
lyn  Castle,  and  the  way  to  go  is  to  take  Hawthomden,  as 
most  tourists  do,  en  route.  This  place  —  a  delightful,  roman- 
tic old  ivy-covered  mansion — is  perched  upon  a  high  precipice, 
eighty  or  one  hundred  feet  above  the  River  Esk  ("  where  ford 
there  was  none"),  in  a  most  delightfully  romantic  position, 
commanding  a  view  of  the  little  stream  in  its  devious  wind- 
ings in  the  deep,  irregular  gully  below ;  the  gardens  and  walks, 
for  a  mile  about  and  above  the  river,  are  charmingly  rural  and 
tastefully  arranged.  One  can  well  imagine  that  Drummond, 
the  Scottish  poet  and  historian,  the  friend  of  Shakespeare, 
Ben  Jonson,  and  Drayton,  drew  inspiration  from  this  charm- 
ing retreat.  Johnson  is  said  to  have  walked  all  the  way  from 
London  to  make  a  visit  here. 

Under  the  mansion  we  visited  a  series  of  curious  caves, 
hollowed  from  the  solid  rock,  and  connected  with  each  other 
by  dark  and  narrow  passages,  very  much  like  those  sub- 
terranean passages  told  of  in  old-fashioned  novels,  as  existing 


EOSLIN   CHAPEL.  63 

beneath  old  castles.  One  of  these  rocky  chambers  had  a  little 
window  cut  through  its  side,  half  concealed  by  ivy,  but  com- 
manding a  view  of  the  whole  glen.  Here,  the  guide  told  us, 
Robert  Bruce  hid  for  a  long  time  from  his  enemies ;  and  I 
was  prepared  to  hear  that  this  was  the  scene  of  the  celebrated 
spider  anecdote  of  the  story-books.  We  got  no  such  informa- 
tion, but  were  shown  a  long,  two-handed  sword,  however,  said 
to  have  belonged  to  the  Scottish  king,  which  I  took  pleasure 
in  giving  a  brandish  above  my  head,  to  the  infinite  disgust 
of  the  guide,  who  informed  me,  after  I  had  laid  down  this  for- 
midable weapon,  that  visitors  were  not  allowed  to  handle  it. 

It  may  be  as  well  to  state  that  the  authenticity  of  this 
sword,  and  also  the  correctness  of  the  story  that  Bruce  ever 
hid  there,  are  questioned.  One  of  the  chambers  has  regular 
shelves,  like  book-shelves,  cut  in  the  rock,  and  this  is  styled 
Bruce's  Library.  Passing  out  into  the  grounds  of  the  house, 
we  descended,  by  a  pretty  rustic  pathway,  to  the  valley,  and 
along  by  the  side  of  the  Esk  River,  which  babbled  over  its 
rocky  bed  at  our  feet.  If  this.  Esk  is  the  same  one  that 
Young  Lochinvar  swam,  he  did  not  accomplish  anything  to 
boast  of;  for  during  a  walk  of  over  two  miles  at  its  side,  I 
saw  no  part  over  twenty  feet  wide,  and  no  Arery  dangerous 
depth  or  current. 

Our  romantic  walk  brought  us  to  the  ruins  of  Rosslyn 
Castle,  but  little  of  which  remains,  except  a  triple  tier  of 
vaults  and  some  masses  of  masonry,  its  position  being  on  a 
sort  of  peninsular  rock,  overhanging  the  picturesque  glen  of 
the  Esk  we  had  just  traversed ;  and  the  massive  stone  bridge 
which  spans  the  ravine  forms  the  only  connection  between 
the  opposite  bank  and  the  castle. 

Rosslyn  Chapel,  or  Roslin, — for  they  spell  it  both  ways  here, 
— was  founded  by  William,  the  third  earl  of  Orkney,  in  1446, 
who  had  conferred  on  him  by  James  II.  the  office  of  Grand  Mas- 
ter of  the  Scottish  Freemasons,  which  continued  hereditary  in 
the  family  of  his  descendants  till  1736,  when  it  was  resigned 
into  the  hands  of  the  Scottish  Lodges.  The  chapel  is  one 
of  the  most  elaborately  decorated  specimens  of  architecture 


64  MASONIC   DECORATIONS. 

in  the  kingdom,  and,  besides  its  celebrity  in  history,  and 
the  interest  that  Scott  has  invested  it  with,  is  a  building  of 
peculiar  interest  to  members  of  the  fraternity  of  Freemasons. 
It  is  impossible  to  designate  the  architecture  by  any  familiar 
term;  it  is  distinguished,  however,  by  its  pointed  Gothic 
arches  and  a  profusion  of  ornament,  the  interior  being  a 
wonder  of  decoration  in  stone  carving,  particularly  the  pillars, 
which  are  pointed  out  to  the  visitor  as  its  chief  wonders,  and 
some  of  which  bear  the  mark  master  mason's  "mark." 

The  interior  of  the  chapel  is  divided  into  a  centre  and  two 
side  aisles,  and  the  two  rows  of  clustered  pillars  which  sup- 
port the  roof  are  only  eight  feet  in  height.  The  capitals  of 
these  pillars  are  decorated  with  the  most  beautifully  chis- 
elled foliage,  running  vines,  and  ornaments,  and  on  the  friezes 
masonic  brethren  are  represented  feeding  the  hungry,  clothing 
the  naked,  visiting  the  sick,  &c. ;  there  are  also  a  number  of 
allegorical  figures,  representing  the  seven  deadly  sins. 

But  the  marvel  of  the  whole  is  the  Apprentices'  Pillar, 
which,  according  to  the  familiar  legend,  was  left  unfinished  by 
the  master  mason,  while  he  went  to  Rome  to  study  designs 
to  enable  him  to  perfect  it  in  a  suitable  manner.  During  his 
absence,  an  "entered  apprentice,"  fired  with  ambition,  com- 
pleted it  after  designs  of  his  own,  which  so  enraged  the  mas- 
ter on  his  return,  that,  in  a  fit  of  rage,  he  killed  him  with  a 
blow  on  the  head  with  a  setting-maul.  The  pillar  is  a  clus- 
tered column,  surrounded  by  an  exquisitely-wrought  wreath 
of  flowers,  running  from  base  to  capital,  the  very  poetry  of 
carving.     Above  this  pillar  is  the  following  inscription :  — 

jFotte  est  utninn,  fortiot  est  xtx,  fortt'orcs  sunt  multcrcs; 
suprr  omnia  burnt  ucritas. 

Which  is,  "  Wine  is  strong,  the  king  is  stronger,  women  are 
strongest ;  above  all  things,  truth  conquers." 

We  stood  upon  the  ponderous  slab  that  was  the  door  to 
the  vault  beneath,  in  which  slumber  the  barons  of  Roslin,  all 
of  whom,  till  the  time  of  James  VI.,  were  buried  uncoffined, 


MELROSE.  65 

but  in  complete  armor — helm,  corselet,  and  gauntlets.  Scott's 
familiar  lines  came  to  mind,  — 

"  Where  Roslin's  chiefs  uncoffined  lie, 
Each  baron,  for  a  sable  shroud, 
Sheathed  in  his  iron  panoply." 

It  seems,  however,  that  some  of  the  descendants  of  the 
"barons"  had  a  more  modern  covering  than  their  "iron 
panoply ; "  for,  about  two  years  ago,  upon  the  death  of  an 
old  earl,  it  was  decided  to  bury  him  in  this  vault ;  and  it  was 
accordingly  opened,  when  two  huge  coffins  were  found  at  the 
very  entrance,  completely  blocking  it  up,  and  which  would 
have  broken  in  pieces  in  the  attempt  to  move  them.  The 
present  earl,  therefore,  ordered  the  workmen  to  close  the  old 
vault,  and  his  father's  remains  were  interred  in  a  new  one  in 
the  chancel,  built  about  eighty  years  ago,  where  the  inscrip- 
tion above  his  remains  tells  us  that  "  James  Alexander,  third 
Earl,  died  16th  June,  1866." 

Bidding  adieu  to  this  exquisite  little  building,  we  will  take 
a  glance  at  another,  or  rather  the  ruins  of  another,  that  owes 
much  of  its  fame  also  to  the  interest  with  which  "Walter 
Scott  has  invested  it  —  one  which  he  loved  to  visit,  and  much 
of  whose  beautiful  architectural  ornamentation  he  caused  to 
be  copied  into  his  own  Abbotsford.  I  refer  to  Melrose  Ab- 
bey ;  and,  as  no  tourist  ever  thinks  of  leaving  Scotland  with- 
out seeing  it,  a  sketch  of  our  visit  may  possibly  be  but  a  new 
version  of  an  oft-told  story ;  but  now  that  I  have  seen  it, 
I  am  never  tired  of  thinking  and  reading  of  its  wondrous 
beauty. 

Melrose  is  thirty-five  miles  from  Edinburgh  by  rail ;  and  on 
arrival  at  the  station,  we  were  at  once  pounced  upon  by  a 
number  of  drivers  of  vehicles  in  waiting,  who  were  desirous 
of  securing  us,  or  of  having  us  secure  them,  for  a  drive  to 
Melrose  Abbey,  Abbotsford,  or  Dryburg  Abbey,  and  if  we 
had  not  been  cautioned,  we  should  have  been  warned  by  a 
card  wxhich  was  thrust  into  my  hand,  and  which  I  give  for  the 
benefit  of  other  tourists  who  may  go  that  way,  informing 
5 


66  THE    ABBEY    HOTEL. 

them  that  the  "  Abbey  Hotel,"  herein  mentioned,  is  less  than 
five  minutes'  walk  from  the  little  railroad  station. 

"The  Abbey  Hotel,  Abbey  Gate,  Melrose. 

"  This  hotel  is  situated  upon  the  abbey  grounds,  and  at  the  entrance 
to  the  'far-famed  ruins.'  Parties  coming  to  the  hotel,  therefore,  are 
cautioned  against  being  imposed  upon  by  cab-drivers  at  the  railroad  sta- 
tion and  elsewhere,  as  this  is  the  only  house  which  commands  the  views 
of  Melrose  Abbey. 

"  An  extensive  addition  having  been  lately  built  to  this  establishment, 
consisting  of  suites  of  sitting  and  bed-rooms,  it  is  now  the  largest  and 
most  handsome  hotel  in  Melrose. 

"  One-horse  carriage  to  Abbotsford  and  back 6s.  6d. 

"  "        to  Dryburg  and  back     .......     7s.  6d. 

"These  charges  include  everything." 

Upon  the  reverse  we  were  treated  to  a  pictorial  representa- 
tion of  this  "  most  handsome  hotel,"  an  unpretending,  two- 
story  mansion,  which,  we  were  informed,  was  kept  by  Archi- 
bald Hamilton,  who  also  kept  various  "horses,  gigs,  and 
phaetons  for  hire ;  wines  and  foreign  and  British  spirits  for 
sale."  A  rush  of  twenty  visitors  would  have  overrun  the 
"  establishment,"  to  which  "  an  extensive  addition  "  had  been 
made.  The  Abbey  Hotel  was  a  comfortable  English  inn,  and 
we  found,  on  arriving  at  it,  that  it  almost  joined  on  to  the  very 
abbey  itself;  while  another  little  building,  the  dwelling  of  the 
widow  and  two  daughters  who  showed  the  ruins,  as  we  found, 
for  a  consideration,  was  close  by  —  too  close,  it  seemed  to  us, 
to  this  glorious  old  structure,  which,  even  in  its  ruins,  is  an  ob- 
ject of  universal  admiration,  its  magnificence  and  gracefulness 
entitling  it  to  be  ranked  as  one  of  the  most  perfect  works  of 
the  best  age  of  this  description  of  ecclesiastical  architecture. 

Melrose  was  built  in  1146,  destroyed  by  the  English  in 
1322,  and  rebuilt  with  two  thousand  pounds  sterling,  given  by 
Robert  Bruce,  in  1326 — a  sum  of  money  equal  to  about  fifty 
thousand  pounds  at  the  present  time.  So  much  for  its  histo- 
ry. But  let  us  pay  the  sexton's  pretty  daughter  her  shilling, 
for  here  she  is  with  the  key  that  unlocks  the  modern  iron-rail- 
ing gate  that  excludes  strangers  who  do  not  pay  for  the  prrvi- 


MELROSE    ABBEY.  G7 

lege ;  and  following  her  a  few  steps,  we  are  in  the  midst  of 
the  grand  and  glorious  ruins  of  the  old  abbey  that  we  are 
familiar  with  in  song  and  story,  and  from  the  many  counter- 
feit presentments  that  we  have,  time  and  again,  gazed  upon  in 
luxurious  illustrated  books,  or  upon  the  walls  of  art  galleries 
at  home. 

"  The  darkened  roof  rose  high  aloof, 
On  pillars  lofty,  light,  and  small ; 
The  key-stone  that  locked  each  ribbed  aisle 
Was  a  fleur-de-lis,  or  a  quatre-feuille. 
The  corbels  were  carved  grotesque  and  grim, 
And  the  pillars  with  clustered  shafts  so  trim, 
With  base  and  with  capital  flourished  around, 
Seemed  bundles  of  lances  which  garlands  had  bound." 

As  we  came  into  the  midst  of  this  glorious  old  structure, 
we  actually  stood  silent  for  some  time,  so  filled  were  we  with 
admiration  at  its  wondrous  beauty.  To  be  sure,  the  blue  arch 
of  the  heavens  is  now  its  only  roof,  and  from  the  shattered 
walls  rooks  or  jackdaws  fly  noisily  overhead ;  but,  then,  the 
majestic  sweep  of  the  great  Gothic  arches,  that  vista  of  beau- 
ty, a  great  Gothic  aisle  still  standing,  fifty  feet  long,  and  sixty 
feet  from  floor  to  key-stone,  the  superb  columns,  and  the  innu- 
merable elegant  carvings  on  every  side,  the  graves  of  monarch, 
knight,  and  wizard,  marked  with  their  quaint,  antique  inscrip- 
tions at  your  feet,  and 

"The  cloister  galleries  small,  * 

Which  at  mid  height  thread  the  chancel  wall," 

all  form  a  scene  of  most  charming  and  beautiful  effects. 

And  we  stood  there,  with  the  blue  sky  looking  in  through 
the  shattered  arches,  the  noisy  rooks  flying  hither  and  thither 
on  their  morning  calls,  the  turf,  soft,  green,  and  springy, 
sprinkled  here  and  there  with  wild  flowers,  in  the  centre  of 
the  ruin,  while  festoons  of  ivy  waved  in  the  breeze,  like  tapes- 
try hung  about  the  shattered  windows  and  crumbling  columns. 

Here  was  the  place,  and  the  day  was  one  of  those  quiet, 
dreamy  spring  days,  on  which  tourists  could  sit 

"  Them  down  on  a  marble  stone," 


68  AN   ARCHITECTURAL   POEM. 

and  read  bold  Deloraine's  visit  to  the  wizard's  grave,  as  de- 
scribed by  Scott  in  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel.  And  here 
is  his  grave,  an  unpoetical-looking  place  enough  now,  and 
perhaps  less  "wonderful  since  Branksome's  knight  wrenched  it 
open,  and  took  away  the  magic  volume  from  Michael  Scott's 
dead  clasp.  Here  is  the  spot  where  Robert  Bruce's  heart  was 
buried ;  here  the  grave  of  the  Earl  of  Douglas,  "  the  dark 
Knight  of  Liddesdale,"  and  of  Douglass,  the  hero  of  Chevy 
Chase ;  while  quaint  and  Latin  inscriptions  on  the  walls  and 
the  time-worn  slabs  record  the  resting-place  of  once  proud, 
but  now  extinct  families  and  forgotten  heroes,  all  now  one 
common  dust. 

"We  must  not  forget  the  great  windows  of  the  abbey,  more 
especially  the  east  window.  I  write  it  in  large  letters,  for 
it  is  an  architectural  poem,  and  it  will  live  in  my  memory  as  a 
joy  forever,  it  is  such  a  thing  of  beauty.  The  lightness  of  its 
proportions  and  beauty  of  its  tracery  at  once  impress  the  be- 
holder ;  and  all  around  the  sides  and  above  it  are  quaint  and 
wonderfully-executed  sculptures  in  the  stone-work  —  statues, 
chain  and  crown ;  figures  on  carved  pedestals,  beneath  cano- 
pies of  wrought  stone,  while  wreaths  and  sculptured  flowers 
are  artistically  wrought  in  various  directions. 

The  exterior  of  the  abbey  presents  remarkable  symmetry, 
and  a  profusion  of  embellishment  in  sculptured  stone-work, 
and  is  built  in  the  usual  form  of  such  structures  —  a  Latin 
cross.  The  nave,  in  its  present  ruined  condition,  is  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty-eight  feet  long,  by  seventy-nine  in  breadth.  The 
transept  is  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  long,  and  forty-four  in 
breadth,  which  will  give  some  idea  of  the  size  of  these  splen- 
did old  edifices  of  the  Romish  church.  The  ornamental  carv- 
ing, with  which  the  whole  edifice  is  so  profusely  decorated, 
would  afford  study  for  a  month,  and  consists,  besides  delicately- 
chiselled  flowers  and  plants,  of  grotesque  and  curious  figures 
of  monks,  saints,  nuns,  demons,  &c. 

Among  other  sculptures  is  that  of  a  man  seated  cross- 
legged,  upholding  a  pedestal  on  his  shoulders,  his  features 
expressing  pain  at  the  heavy  weight ;  a  group  of  musicians 


CARVING   AND    SCULPTURE.  69 

playing  on  various  instruments  and  performing  different 
antics ;  a  man  with  his  head  in  his  hand ;  monks  with  ro- 
saries, cooks  with  knife  and  ladle,  grinning  heads,  and  women 
with  faces  veiled  and  busts  displayed ;  effigies  of  the  apostles, 
rosettes,  ribbed  work,  bouquets  of  floAvers,  scallojD  shells,  oak 
leaves,  acorns,  lilies  and  plants ;  in  fact,  the  faithfulness  with 
which  well-known  plants  have  been  represented  by  the 
sculptor  has  long  been  the  subject  of  comment  of  the  his- 
torian and  antiquarian ;  and  "  in  this  abbey,"  says  an  historian, 
"there  are  the  finest  lessons  and  the  greatest  variety  of 
Gothic  ornaments  that  the  island  affords,  take  all  the  reli- 
gious structures  together." 

'What  must  it  have  been  when  nave,  and  transept,  and  aisle 
were  perfect,  when  the  great  windows  were  perfect  glories  of 
colored  glass,  the  carvings  fresh  from  the  sculptor's  chisel, 
and  the  chant  of  a  hundred  monks  floated  through  the  lofty 
arches !  In  those  times  when  these  holy  men  gave  their  hearts 
and  hands  to  the  extending  and  embellishing  of  those  tem- 
ples erected  to  the  great  Architect  of  the  Universe,  by  that 
wonderful  order  of  men,  the  Freemasons,  and  did  it  with  an 
enthusiasm  and  taste  which  proved  that  they  deemed  a  love 
of  the  beautiful  not  incompatible  with  the  love  of  religion ! 
It  was  then  that  religious  fervor  expressed  itself  in  grand 
creations,  and  all  the  arts  of  the  age  were  controlled  and 
made  to  contribute  to  the  one  great  art  of  the  age,  Architec- 
ture, as  evinced  in  these  wondrous  works  of  their  hands  that 
they  have  left  behind  —  models  of  artistic  skill  and  beauty  un- 
excelled as  yet  by  those  who  have  come  after  them. 

Melrose  Abbey  is  a  place  that  I  would  have  enjoyed  spend- 
ing a  week  at  instead  of  a  single  day,  which  was  all  too  short 
for  proper  study  and  examination  of  the  curious  specimens 
of  the  sculptors'  and  builders'  arts  one  encounters  in  every 
part  of  the  ruins ;  but  we  must  up  and  away. 

A  carriage  to  Abbotsford  and  back  was  chartered,  and  we 
were  soon  rattling  over  the  pleasant  road  on  our  way  to  the 
home  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  about  three  miles  distant.  It  is 
in  some  respects  a  curious  structure,  half  country-seat,  half 


70  ABBOTSFOKD. 

castle,  "  a  romance  of  stone  and  lime,"  as  its  owner  used  to 
call  it.  We  did  not  catch  sight  of  its  castellated  turrets,  till, 
driving  down  a  slight  declivity  from  the  main  road,  we  were 
at  the  very  gates ;  entering  these,  a  beautiful  walk  of  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet,  along  one  aisle  of  the  court-yard,  and  com- 
manding a  fine  view  of  a  portion  of  the  grounds,  the  garden 
front,  led  us  to  the  house  itself. 

At  different  points  about  the  grounds  and  house  are  vari- 
ous stone  antiquities,  and  curiosities  gathered  from  old  build- 
ings, which  one  must  have  a  guide-book  to  explain.  Melrose 
Abbey  and  the  old  city  of  Edinburgh  appear  to  have  been 
laid  under  contribution  for  these  mementos  —  the  door  of 
the  old  Tollbooth  from  the  latter,  and  a  stone  fountain,  upon 
which  stood  the  old  cross  of  Edinburgh,  being  conspicuous 
objects.  Abbotsford  is  a  lovely  place,  and  seems  to  be  situ- 
ated in  a  sort  of  depression  among  the  hills,  and  by  them,  in 
some  degree,  sheltered  from  any  sweeping  winds.  Besides 
being  of  interest  as  the  residence  of  Scott,  it  is  a  perfect 
museum  of  curiosities  and  relics  identified  with  Scottish 
history. 

The  entrance  hall  is  richly  panelled  in  oak  taken  from  the 
palace  of  Dunfermline,  and  the  roof  with  the  same.  All  along 
the  cornice  of  the  roof  of  this  hall  are  the  coats  of  arms  of 
the  different  clans  of  the  Border,  painted  in  colors,  on  small 
arraorial  shields,  an  inscription  stating,  — 

"  JZEftese  he  the  coat  armoires  of  the  clanns  attti  cfjtef  men  at 
name,  urha  fceepft  the  matches  of  Scotlano  in  tfje  aulo  tome  for 
the  Bgnp.  STrefoe  men  uiere  theg  in  that  orfence.  ©ob  them 
oefenoot." 

Here  are  also  three  or  four  complete  suits  of  tilting  armor, 
set  up  and  looking  as  though  still  occupied  by  the  stern  war- 
riors who  once  owned  them :  one  grasps  a  huge  two-handed 
sword,  captured  at  the  battle  of  Bosworth  Field ;  another  a 
broad  claymore  taken  from  the  dead  grasp  of  a  Highlander, 
who  fell  with 

"  His  back  to  the  field  and  his  feet  to  the  foe," 


CURIOUS   RELICS.  71 

on  the  disastrous  field  of  Culloden;  the  breastplates  and 
trappings  of  two  of  Napoleon's  celebrated  French  cuirassiers, 
whose  resistless  charge  trampled  down  whole  battalions,  but 
who  were  swept  from  their  saddles  by  hundreds,  as  these  two 
were  by  the  leaden  hail  of  the  English  infantry  squares  at 
Waterloo.  Here  also  were  stout  old  lochaber  axes,  English 
steel  maces,  battle-axes,  and  other  weapons,  many  with  his- 
tories, and  from  the  bloody  fields  whose  horrors  are  a  promi- 
nent feature  on  the  pages  of  history. 

But  the  most  interesting  rooms  of  all,  to  me,  were  the  study 
and  library  of  Sir  Walter ;  and  among  the  most  interesting 
relics  were  the  plain,  unpretending  suit  of  clothes  last  worn 
by  him,  his  walking-sticks,  his  shoes,  and  his  pipes ;  and  in 
his  study  the  writing-table  at  which  he  wrote,  and  the  great 
leather-covered  chair  in  which  he  sat.  The  library  is  quite  a 
large  apartment,  some  fifty  or  sixty  feet  in  length,  handsome- 
ly decorated,  and  with  its  deep,  broad  windows  looking  out 
upon  the  River  Tweed.  It  is  completely  lined  with  books 
from  floor  to  ceiling  —  in  all,  some  twenty  thousand. 

Here  are  also  many  curiosities ;  among  others,  the  silver 
urn  presented  by  Lord  Byron,  which  rests  on  a  stand  of 
porphyry ;  Marie  Antoinette's  clock ;  very  curious  and  richly 
carved  ebony  arm-chairs,  presented  by  George  IV. ;  a  glass 
case  contained  Rob  Roy  McGregor's  purse,  a  piece  of  Robert 
Bruce's  coffin,  a  purse  wrought  by  Joanna  Baillie,  a  small 
case  by  Miss  Martineau,  two  gold  bees,  each  as  big  as  a  hen's 
egg,  taken  from  Napoleon's  carriage,  a  portfolio  that  once 
belonged  to  Napoleon,  miniature  portrait  of  Prince  Charlie, 
("  Wha'll  be  King  but  Charlie  ?  "),  snuff-box  of  George  IV.,  the 
seal  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  a  little  box  from  Miss  Edge- 
worth,  and  other  relics  and  momentos. 

In  the  armory,  among  other  curiosities,  we  saw  the  musket 
of  that  redoubtable  outlaw  Rob  Roy,  Claverhouse's  pistol,  a 
sword  that  was  given  to  the  Marquis  of  Montrose  by  Charles 
I.,  James  VI.'s  hunting  flask,  pair  of  pistols  found  in  Napo- 
leon's carriage  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  the  armor  of  one  of 
the  old  Scottish  kings,  General  Monk's  pistols,  keys  of  the  old 
Tollbooth,  &c. 


72  STIRLING   CASTLE. 

Among  the  more  striking  pictures  upon  the  walls  of  the 
different  rooms  were  the  portrait  of  the  head  of  Mary,  Queen 
of  Scots,  upon  a  charger,  said  to  have  been  taken  a  few  hours 
after  her  execution,  the  sad,  pale  features  of  which  haunted 
my  imagination  for  many  an  hour  afterwards.  Then  there 
were  the  stern,  heavily-moulded  featui'es  of  Cromwell,  Charles 
XII.,  the  lion  of  Sweden,  and  Claverhouse,  Charles  II.,  and  a 
long-bearded  old  ancestor  of  Sir  Walter's,  who  allowed  his 
beard  to  grow  after  the  execution  of  Charles  I. ;  and  a  col- 
lection of  original  etchings  by  Turner  and  other  artists,  the 
designs  for  the  "Provincial  Antiquities  of  Scotland."  But 
from  all  these  we  sauntered  back  reverentially  to  the  little 
study,  with  its  deep  arm-chair,  and  its  table  and  books  of  ref- 
erence, and  its  subdued  light  from  the  single  window;  for 
here  was  the  great  author's  work-room.  A  garrulous  guide 
and  three  or  four  curious  friends  allow  a  dreamer,  however, 
no  time  for  thought  and  reflection  while  there  is  sight-seeing 
to  be  done  ;  so  we  were  escorted  over  a  portion  of  the  prettily 
laid-out  grounds,  and  then  took  our  leave,  and  our  carriage, 
and  soon  left  Abbotsford  behind  us. 

Edinburgh,  Melrose,  and  Abbotsford  seen,  we  must  next 
have  a  look  a  Stirling  Castle.  So,  after  a  ride  of  thirty-six 
miles  from  Edinburgh,  we  are  eating  the  well-cooked  mutton 
chops  that  they  serve  at  the  Golden  Lion,  in  Stirling,  and, 
after  being  duly  fortified  with  good  cheer,  wend  our  way  up 
through  the  steep  streets  to  the  castle  on  its  rocky  perch. 
This  strong  old  castle,  standing  directly  upon  the  brow  of  a 
precipitous  rock,  overlooks  one  of  the  most  extended  and 
beautiful  landscapes  in  the  kingdom  —  the  beautiful  vale  of 
Menteith,  the  Highland  mountains  in  the  distance,  Ben  Lo- 
mond, Benvenue,  Ben  Lodi,  and  several  other  "Bens;"  the 
River  Forth,  winding  its  devious  course  through  the  fertile 
valley,  the  brown  road,  far  below  at  our  feet,  running  along  to 
the  faintly-marked  ruins  of  Cambuskenneth  Abbey,  and  the 
little  villages  and  arched  bridges,  form  a  charming  view. 

The  eye  here  takes  in  also,  in  this  magnificent  prospect,  no 
less  than  twelve  of  Scotland's  battle-fields,  including  one  of 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  73 

Wallace's   fierce   contests,  and  Bannockburn,  where   Bruce 
gained  the  independence  of  Scotland  in  1314. 

James  II.  and  James  V.  were  born  in  Stirling;  and  I 
looked  at  the  little  narrow  road  which  goes  down  behind  the 
castle  with  some  interest,  when  I  was  told  it  furnished  King 
James  V.  the  fictitious  name,  "  Ballangeich,"  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  assuming  when  he  went  among  his  subjects  in  dis- 
guise. Theatre-goers  will  remember  the  play  of  the  "  Gude 
Man  of  Ballangeich,"  and  the  "  King  of  the  Commons,"  and 
that  he  was  the  king  who  was  hero  in  those  plays,  and  also 
the  "  James  Fitz-James  "  of  Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake.  And, 
speaking  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  the  beautiful  view  from 
the  battlements  of  Stirling  Castle,  three  hundred  feet  abovo 
the  valley,  recalled  Roderic  Dhu's  reply  to  James :  — 

"  Saxon,  from  yonder  mountain  high, 
I  marked  thee  send  delighted  eye 
Far  to  the  south  and  east,  where  lay, 
Extended  in  succession  gay, 
Deep  waving  fields  and  pastures  green, 
With  gentle  slopes  and  groves  between ; 
Those  fertile  fields,  that  softened  vale, 
Were  once  the  birthright  of  the  Gael." 

The  outer  gates  of  the  castle  are  said  to  have  been  built 
by  the  old  Romans,  and  were  strong  enough  for  ancient  bat- 
teries, but  not  for  modern  artillery.  The  marks  of  the  can- 
non shot  fired  by  General  Monk  when  he  attacked  the 
castle,  directing  the  whole  fire  of  his  artillery  at  one  point 
till  he  battered  down  a  portion  of  the  wall,  and  the  breach 
through  which  William  Wallace  entered,  are  points  of  inter- 
est. So  was  the  dark,  secure,  stone  cell  into  which  we 
peeped,  where  Rob  Roy  is  said  to  have  been  confined. 
The  outer  works  of  the  castle  were  erected  in  Queen  Anne's 
time,  and  that  known  as  the  Palace,  built  by  James  V.  The 
little  room  known  as  the  Douglass  Room,  with  its  adjoining 
closet,  is  one  of  the  "lions"  of  the  castle,  for  it  was  here  that 
the  Earl  of  Douglass  —  the  "Black  Douglass"  —  met  King 
James  II.  under  promise  of  safe  conduct ;  and  after  a  fierce 


74  THE    TOURNAMENT    FIELD. 

discussion,  in  which  the  king  vainly  tried  to  induce  him  to 
abandon  a  compact  he  had  made  with  other  chiefs,  he  stabbed 
the  earl,  in  a  fit  of  passion. .  The  nobles  attendant  on  the 
king,  concealed  in  the  little  antechamber,  rushed  in  and  com- 
pleted the  murder,  throwing  the  body  from  the  window  — 
which  is  pointed  out  to  us  —  into  the  garden  beneath. 

Not  far  from  the  castle  is  the  "  Lady's  Rock,"  a  small  hill 
from  which  the  ladies  of  the  Scottish  court,  and  other  favored 
ones,  could  look  down  upon  the  tournament  field,  a  hundred 
feet  below.  And  as  we  sat  there,  and  looked  upon  the  form 
of  the  lists,  still  visible  upon  the  turf  below,'  marked  by  the 
green  ridges,  it  was  easy  to  imagine  what  an  animated  and 
beautiful  scene  it  must  have  presented  when  filled  with 
knights  and  squires,  steeds  and  men ;  for  it  was  here  that 
James  was  forced  to  award  Douglass  the  prize,  as  the  victor 
in  the  feats  of  strength  at  the  Scottish  sports. 

"  The  gray-haired  sires,  who  know  the  past, 
To  strangers  point  the  Douglass  cast, 
And  moralize  on  the  decay 
Of  Scottish  strength  in  modern  day." 

This  beautiful  vale  has  witnessed  many  a  joust  and  tourna- 
ment. This  vale  at  our  feet,  this  "Lady's  Rock,"  and  the 
lady's  seat,  which  makes  for  us  a  sort  of  rocky  throne,  as  we 
sit  here  and  muse  on  Scotland's  history  and  Scotland's  poet, 
are  the  very  ones  he  speaks  of  as 

"  The  vale  with  loud  applauses  rang, 
The  Lady's  Rock  sent  back  the  clang." 

Near  the  Lady's  Rock  is  a  modern  .cemetery,  beautifully 
laid  out,  and  containing  statues  of  Knox  and  Henderson,  and 
other  handsome  monuments.  The  old  churchyard  of  Gray- 
friars  contains  many  curious  monuments,  and  here,  on  an  old 
sun-dial,  I  found  this  inscription :  — 

"  I  mark  time ;  dost  thou? 
I  am  a  shadow ;  so  art  thou." 


FIELD    OF   BANNOCKBURN.  75 

It  was  in  Grayfriars  that  James  VI.  was  crowned,  and 
Knox  preached  the  coronation  sermon. 

No  tourist  will  think  of  leaving  Stirling  without  taking  a 
ride  to  the  field  of  Bannockburn,  a  short  distance.  The  scene 
of  a  battle  which  occurred  more  than  five  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago  cannot  be  expected  to  preserve  many  features  of 
its  former  character ;  the  only  one  which  is  of  particular  in- 
terest is  the  "  Bore  Stone,"  a  fragment  of  rock  with  a  small 
cavity,  in  which  the  Scottish  standard  is  said  to  have  been 
raised ;  it  is  clamped  all  over  with  iron  bars,  to  prevent  relic- 
hunters  from  carrying  what  remains  of  it  away. 

The  story  of  the  battle  is  one  of  the  most  familiar  ones  in 
Scottish  history  to  both  young  and  old  readers,  and  your 
guide  will  indicate  to  you  points  where  the  Scotch  and  Eng- 
lish forces  were  disposed,  where  the  concealed  pits  were 
placed  into  which  plunged  so  many  of  the  English  cavalry, 
the  point  where  Bruce  stood  to  watch  the  battle,  nay,  the 
very  place  where 

"  The  monarch  rode  along  the  van, 
The  foe's  approaching  force  to  scan," 

when  Sir  Henry  Boune,  thinking,  as  the  Bruce  was  mounted 
on  a  slight  palfrey,  far  in  advance  of  his  own  line,  to  ride  him 
down  with  his  heavy  war  horse,  set  his  lance  in  rest,  and  dashed 
out  from  the  English  lines  with  that  intent. 

"He  spurred  his  steed,  he  couched  his  lance, 
And  darted  on  the  Bruce  at  once," 

thinking  to  distinguish  himself  and  have  his  name  in  history. 
He  did  so,  but  not  in  the  manner,  probably,  he  had  anticipat- 
ed; for 

"  "While  on  the  king,  like  flash  of  flame, 
Spurred  to  full  speed,  the  war  horse  came ! 
But  swerving  from  the  knight's  career, 
Just  as  they  met,  Bruce  shunned  the  spear. 

•  •  •  •  • 

High  in  his  stirrups  stood  the  king, 
And  gave  his  battle-axe  the  swing; 


76  THE    TARTAN   ARRAY. 

Such  strength  upon  the  hlow  was  put, 
The  helmet  cracked  like  hazel-nut ;  " 

and  so  began  the  battle  of  Bannockburn,  which  ended  in  the 
defeat  of  one  hundred  thousand  English  by  thirty  thousand 
Scots,  raising  Bruce  from  a  hunted  rebel  to  the  rank  of  an 
independent  sovereign.  It  was  the  most  important  battle 
the  Scots  ever  won,  and  the  most  severe  defeat  the  English 
ever  experienced  in  Scotland. 

Another  pleasant  little  excursion  was  a  walk  to  Cambus- 
kenneth  Abbey,  crossing  the  River  Forth  by  an  old  ferry, 
where  we  had  to  hail  the  ferry-man  from  the  other  side.  We 
did  not  have  to  say,  — 

"  Boatman,  do  not  tarry ! 
And  I'll  give  thee  a  silver  pound 
To  row  us  o'er  the  ferry,"  — 

for  the  old  fellow  came  over,  rowed  three  of  us  across,  and 
demanded  three  halfpence  for  the  service;  so  we  were  liberal, 
and  gave  him  double  fare.  The  only  part  of  the  abbey  re- 
maining is  a  Gothic  tower,  and  a  few  remnants  of  walls,  and 
the  foundation  lines  of  nave  and  transept,  which  are  visible. 
A  few  years  ago,  when  some  excavations  were  being  made 
here,  the  site  of  the  high  altar  was  found,  and  beneath  it  the 
supposed  coffin  and  skeleton  of  James  III.  They  were  re- 
interred,  and  a  handsome  square  sarcophagus  marks  the  spot, 
bearing  an  inscription,  which  tells  the  visitor  that  Queen 
Victoria  erected  it  in  1861,  in  memory  of  her  ancestors. 

While  at  Stirling  we  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  a  real 
Highland  regiment,  who  were  quartered  there,  in  their  pic- 
turesque, unmilitary  dress,  —  kilt,  bare  legs,  plaid  stockings, 
crown  of  feathers,  &c,  —  a  most  uncomfortable  and  inconven- 
ient dress  for  service  in  the  field,  I  should  imagine.  I  also 
had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  native  Scotch  songs,  sung  by 
a  Scotch  minstrel,  as  I  never  heard  them  sung  before.  It 
was  a  still,  quiet  moonlight  night,  in  one  of  the  streets,  and 
the  wandering  minstrel  accompanied  himself  on  a  violin.  I 
never  heard  ballad-singing  better  or  more   effectively  ren- 


LADY    OF   THE    LAKE    SCENES.  77 

dered.  The  singer's  voice  was  a  pure,  flexible  tenor,  and  as 
he  sung,  "Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton,"  there  was  hardly  a 
finger  moved  in  the  crowd  that  stood  about  him ;  but  when 
he  gave  a  pathetic  Scotch  ballad,  in  which  the  tear  was  in 
his  voice,  he  brought  it  into  the  eye  of  more  than  one  of  his 
auditors;  and  the  hearty  manner  in  which  many  a  poor, 
ragged  fellow  crowded  up  to  give  him  a  ha'penny  at  the 
close,  showed  how  deeply  they  were  touched,  and  how  grate- 
ful they  felt  towards  one  who  could  interpret  their  national 
melodies  so  well. 

From  Stirling  we  will  make  a  detour  through  that  charm- 
ing scenery  of  Scotland  which  Scott  so  frequently  mentions 
in  his  Lady  of  the  Lake,  especially  in  the  ride  of  Fitz-James 
after  the  stag,  which  at  eve  had  "  drunk  his  fill," 

"  Where  danced  the  moon  on  Monan's  rill." 

But  first  an  unromantic  railroad  ride  of  sixteen  miles  must 

be  taken ;  and   not  unromantic,  either,  for  there  are  many 

pleasant  spots  and  points  of  historic  interest  on  the  route,  — 

the  Bridge  of  Allan,  a  pleasant  village,  which  is  a  popular 

watering-place  not  far  from  Stirling,  being  one;  —  through 

Donne, 

"The  bannered  towers  of  Donne," 

and  on  by  the  rippling  stream  of  the  River  Forth. 

"  They  bathe  their  coursers'  sweltering  sides, 
Dark  Forth,  within  thy  sluggish  tides." 

And  we  might  go  on  with  half  the  poem  in  the  same  manner, 
such  is  the  charm  which  Scott's  poetry  has  lent  to  this  part 
of  the  country. 

At  the  rugged-looking  little  stone-built  town  of  Callander 
we  left  the  tram,  and  climbed  into  a  sort  of  open  wagon  stage- 
coach, similar  to  those  sometimes  used  at  the  White  Moun- 
tains, which  held  sixteen  of  us,  and  had  a  spanking  team 
driven  by  an  expert  English  "  whip ; "  and  we  were  whirled 
away,  for  a  ride  of  twenty  miles  or  more,  through  the  lake 


78  REAL   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

country  and  "the  Trossachs"  to  Loch  Katrine.  The  word 
"  trossachs,"  I  was  told  by  a  communicative  Scotchman,  signi- 
fied "bristles,"  and  the  name  was  suggested  by  the  species 
of  coarse  furze  which  abounds  in  the  passes  of  this  rough  and 
hilly  country.  The  wild  mountain  scenery  reminded  me  often 
of  our  own  White  Mountains ;  and  the  reaches  of  view,  though 
giving  pretty  landscape  scenes,  showed  a  country  rather  sterile 
for  the  husbandman  —  better  to  shoot  over  than  jDlough  over. 
At  last  we  reached  a  little  sort  of  hollow  in  the  hills,  where 
Lake  Vennachar  narrows  down  to  the  River  Teith,  and  came 
to  where  the  stream  swept  round  a  little  grassy  point  of  land ; 
and  here  our  coach  stopped  a  moment  for  us  to  look,  — 

"  For  this  is  Coilantogle  Ford,"  — 

which,  it  will  be  recollected,  was 

"  Far  past  Clan  Alpine's  outmost  guard," 

and  the  scene  of  the  combat  between  Fitz-James  and  Roderic 
Dhu.  "And  there,"  said  an  old  Scotchman,  pointing  to  the 
little  grassy  peninsula,  "  is  the  very  place  where  the  fight  took 
place  "  —  a  borrowed  stretch  of  the  imagination,  inasmuch  as 
the  poet  himself  imagined  the  combat. 

But  we  whirled  away  past  Vennachar,  mounted  a  little 
eminence,  from  whence  Ave  had  a  grand  panoramic  view 
of  lulls,  lake,  road,  and  river,  with  Benvenue  rising  in  the 
background ;  and  as  we  rattled  down  the  hill  the  road  swept 
round  with  a  curve  near  to  a  little  village  that  I  recognized 
at  once  from  the  pictures  in  illustrated  editions  of  Scott's 
poems  —  Duncraggan's  huts,  one  of  the  points  at  which  the 
bearer  of  the  fiery  cross  paused  on  his  journey  to  raise  the 

clans. 

"  Speed,  Malis'e,  speed!  the  lake  is  past, 
Duncraggan's  huts  appear  at  last." 

And  passing  this,  we  soon  rolled  over  a  little  single-arched 
bridge  —  the  bridge  of  Turk. 

"  And  when  the  Brigg  of  Turk  was  won, 
The  headmost  horseman  rode  alone." 


SCOTCH    LAKES    AND    IIILLS.  79 

On  over  the  Brigg  of  Turk,  past  Loch  Achray,  and  we 
come  to  the  Trossachs  Hotel,  commanding  a  good  view  of  the 
black -looking  "  loch,"  and  the  rocky  peak  of  Ben  A'an.  Be- 
tween this  point  and  Loch  Katrine,  a  mile,  are  the  "  Tros- 
sachs." All  the  drives  and  scenery  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
are  delightful ;  and  the  hotel,  which  is  a  fine  castellated  build- 
ing, must  be  a  most  pleasant  place  for  summer  resort. 

Embarking  upon  a  little  steamer  named  Rob  Roy,  on  Loch 
Katrine,  we  sail  close  by  Ellen's  Isle,  and  sweep  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  lake  —  a  lovely  sheet  of  water,  and  reminding 
the  American  tourist  of  Lake  George.  A  delightful  sail  on 
this  lake  carried  us  to  Stronachlachar.  There  we  disembark, 
and  take  carriage  again  through  the  valley  to  Loch  Lomond, 
passing  on  the  road  the  hut  in  which  Helen  McGregor,  Rob 
Roy's  wife,  was  born,  and  also  a  fort  built  to  check  the  incur- 
sions of  the  McGregors,  and  at  one  time  commanded  by  Gen- 
eral Wolfe  —  the  same  who  afterwards  fell  at  the  capture  of 
Quebec.  Then,  descending  to  Inversnaid,  we  came  to  Loch 
Lomond,  with  the  dark  mountains  looking  down  upon  its 
waters. 

That  there  is  some  wind  among  these  Scotch  hills  we  had 
ample  opportunity  of  ascertaining;  for  so  furiously  did  the 
gusts  pour  down  upon  the  lake,  that  they  lashed  it  into  foam- 
capped  waves,  and  sent  the  sheets  of  spray  so  liberally  over 
the  boat  as  to  make  us  glad  to  contemplate  this  pride  of  the 
Scottish  lakes,  its  hills,  and  thirsty  islands  from  the  cabin 
windows.  Disembarking  once  more  at  Balloch,  situated  at 
the  southern  extremity  of  the  lake,  the  train  was  in  waiting 
which  took  us  to  Glasgow,  passing  Dumbarton  on  our  route, 
and  giving  us  a  fine  view  of  Dumbarton  Castle,  situated  upon 
the  two  high  peaks  of  Dumbarton  Rock,  five  hundred  and 
sixty  feet  high,  and  noted  as  being  the  p'lace  of  confinement 
of  William  Wallace.  The  highest  peak  of  the  rock  is  called 
Wallace's  Seat,  from  this  circumstance. 


80  GLASGOW    CATHEDKAL. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Glasgow  Cathedral,  situated  on  the  highest  ground  in 
the  metropolis  of  Scotland,  looks  over  the  spires,  domes,  and 
crowded  masonry  of  a  city  of  half  a  million  inhabitants.  A 
view  from  its  tower,  over  two  hundred  feet  in  height,  takes  in 
the  valley  of  the  River  Clyde,  with  woods,  and  hedges,  and 
pleasant  meadows,  and  the  river  itself  rolling  on  its  way  to- 
wards the  ocean.  The  Renfrewshire  Hills,  the  neighboring 
town  of  Paisley,  Dumbarton  Rock,  and  the  Argyleshire 
Mountains,  and  a  ruin  or  two,  with  the  waving  ivy,  green 
upon  the  shattered  walls,  complete  the  distant  picture ;  while 
spread  beneath,  at  our  very  feet,  is  the  busy  city  itself,  with 
its  factories,  its  furnaces,  and  great  masses  of  high-storied 
houses,  and  stretching  along  by  the  water  side  the  great  quay 
wall  of  fifteen  thousand  feet  in  length,  with  vessels  ranged 
two  or  three  abreast  before  it. 

This  fine  old  cathedral  is  an  elegant  Gothic  structure,  and 
was  built  in  1136.  It  is  remarkable  from  being  one  of  the 
few  churches  in  Scotland  that  have  been  preserved  in  a  com- 
paratively perfect  state,  and  its  annals  for  the  past  seven  hun- 
dred years  have  been  well  preserved  and  authenticated ;  but 
with  these  I  must  have  but  little  to  do,  for  once  immersed  in 
the  curious  records  of  these  old  ecclesiastical  edifices,  so  cele- 
brated in  history,  and  so  wondrous  in  architectural  beauty, 
and  we  shall  get  on  all  too  slowly  among  the  sights  and 
scenes  in  foreign  lands. 

The  grand  entrance  to  the  Glasgow  Cathedral  is  at  the  great 
doorway  at  one  end  of  the  nave,  and  we  enter  a  huge  church, 
three  hundred  and  nineteen  feet  long  by  about  sixty  wide, 
divided  by  a  splendid  screen,  or  rood  loft,  as  it  is  called,  sepa- 
rating the  nave  from  the  choir,  that  most  sacred  part  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  edifices,  where   the  principal   altars   were 


VESTIGES    OF    VANDALISM.  81 

erected,  and  high  mass  was  performed.  The  carving  and. 
ancient  decoration  here  are  in  a  fine  state  of  preservation,  and 
the  majestic  columns  which  support  the  main  arches,  with 
their  beautifully-cut  foliaged  capitals  of  various  designs,  are 
an  architectural  triumph. 

The  crypts  beneath  this  cathedral  are  in  an  excellent  state 
of  preservation,  and  at  one  time  were  used  for  purposes  of 
worship.  In  Catholic  times  these  old  crypts  were  used  for 
the  purposes  of  sepulture  for  prelates  and  high  dignitaries 
of  the  church ;  but  nearly  all  traces  of  the  monuments  of 
these  worthies  were  swept  away  in  the  blind  fury  which  char- 
acterized the  Reformation  in  its  destruction  of  "  monuments 
of  idolatry ; "  and  so  zealous,  or,  we  may  now  say,  fanatical, 
were  the  Reformers,  that  they  swept  to  swift  destruction 
some  of  the  finest  architectural  structures  in  the  land,  and 
monuments  erected  to  men  who  had  been  of  benefit  to  their 
race  and  generation,  in  one  general  ruin.  The  tourist,  as  he 
notes  the  mutilation  of  the  finest  works  of  architectural  skill, 
and  the  almost  total  destruction  of  exquisite  sculpture  and 
historical  monuments,  which  he  constantly  encounters  in  these 
ecclesiastical  buildings,  finds  himself  giving  utterance  to  ex- 
pressions anything  but  flattering  to  the  perpetrators  of  this 
vaudalism. 

An  effigy  of  a  bishop,  with  head  struck  off  and  otherwise 
mutilated,  is  now  about  all  of  note  that  remains  of  the  monu- 
ments here  in  the  crypt.  It  is  supposed  to  be  the  effigy  of 
Jocline,  the  founder  of  this  part  of  the  cathedral,  which  is 
about  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  in  length,  and  sixty-five 
wide,  with  five  rows  of  columns  of  every  possible  form,  from 
simple  shaft  to  those  of  elaborate  design,  supporting  the 
structure  above.  The  crypts  are,  it  is  said,  the  finest  in  the 
kingdom.  But  the  great  wonder  of  Glasgow  Cathedral  is  its 
stained-glass  windows,  which  are  marvels  of  modern  work,  for 
they  were  commenced  in  1859,  and  completed  in  1864,  and 
are  some  of  the  finest  specimens  of  painted-glass  work  that 
the  Royal  Establishment  of  Glass  Painting,  in  Munich,  has 
ever  produced. 

6 


82  BIBLE    STORIES   IN   COLORED    GLASS. 

These  windows  are  over  eighty  in  number;  but  forty-four 
of  them  are  great  windows,  twenty-five  or  thirty  feet  high, 
and  each  one  giving  a  Bible  story  in  pictures.  The  subjects 
begin  with  the  Expulsion  from  Paradise,  and  continue  on  in 
regular  order  of  Bible  chronology.  Besides  these  are  coats  of 
arms  of  the  different  donors  of  windows,  in  a  circle  of  colored 
glass  at  the  base,  as  each  was  given  by  some  noted  person  or 
family,  and  serves  as  a  memento  of  relatives  and  friends  who 
are  interred  in  the  cathedral  or  its  necropolis.  Besides  the 
leading  events  of  biblical  history,  from  the  Old  Testament 
portrayed,  such  as  Noah's  Sacrifice,  Abraham  offering  Isaac, 
the  Offer  of  Marriage  to  Rebekah,  the  Blessing  of  Jacob, 
the  Finding  of  Moses,  &c,  there  are  figures  of  the  apostles, 
the  prophets,  illustrations  of  the  parables  of  our  Saviour,  and 
other  subjects  from  the  Holy  Scriptures,  all  beautifully  exe- 
cuted after  designs  by  eminent  artists. 

But  space  will  not  permit  further  description  of  this  mag- 
nificent building.  Scott  says  this  is  "  the  only  metropolitan 
church,  except  the  Cathedral  Kirkwall,  in  the  Orkneys,  that 
remained  uninjured  at  the  Reformation."  It  owes  its  preser- 
vation from  destruction  somewhat  to  the  fact  that  James  Ra- 
bat, who  was  Dean  of  Guild  when  its  demolition  was  clamored 
for,  was  a  good  Mason,  and  saved  this  work  of  the  masters' 
art  by  suffering  the  "  idolatrous  statues  "  of  saints  to  be  de- 
stroyed on  condition  of  safety  to  the  building. 

At  the  rear  of  the  cathedral  rises  the  Necropolis,  a  bold, 
semicircular  eminence,  some  three  hundred  feet  in  height,  and 
formed  in  regular  terraces,  which  are  divided  into  walks,  and 
crowded  with  elegant  and  costly  modern  monuments ;  too 
crowded,  in  fact,  and  reminding  one  more  of  a  sculpture  gal- 
lery than  a  cemetery.  Among  the  most  conspicuous  of  these 
monuments  was  a  fine  Corinthian  shaft  and  statue  to  John 
Knox,  and  on  the  shaft  was  inscribed,  — 

"When  laid  in  the  ground,  the  regent  said,  'There  lieth  he  who 
never  feared  the  face  of  man,  who  was  often  threatened  with  dag  and 
dagger,  yet  hath  ended  his  days  in  peace  and  honor.' " 


the  actor's  epitaph.  83 

A  magnificent  square  sarcophagus,  erected  to  James  Sheri- 
dan Knowles,  bore  his  name. 

"  Died  November,  1862." 

A  fine  monument  to  John  Dick,  Professor  of  Theology  and 
Minister  of  Grayfriars  Church,  Edinburgh ;  another  to  Wil- 
liam McGarvin,  author  of  the  "Protestant."  One  erected  to  a 
favorite  Scotch  comedian  attracted  my  attention  from  the  ap- 
propriateness of  its  design  and  epitaph.  The  designs  were 
elegantly-cut  figures  of  Comedy  and  Tragedy,  in  marble,  a  me- 
dallion head  in  bass-relief,  probably  a  likeness  of  the  deceased, 
and  the  mask,  bowl,  and  other  well-known  emblems  of  the 
histrionic  art.     The  epitaph  was  as  follows  :  — 

"  Fallen  is  the  curtain ;  the  last  scene  is  o'er, 
The  favorite  actor  treads  life's  stage  no  more. 
Oft  lavish  plaudits  from  the  crowd  he  drew, 
And  laughing  eyes  confessed  his  humor  true. 
Here  fond  affection  rears  this  sculptured  stone, 
For  virtues  not  enacted,  but  his  own  — 
A  constancy  unshaken  unto  death, 
A  truth  unswerving,  and  a  Christian's  faith. 
Who  knew  him  best  have  cause  to  mourn  him  most; 
O,  weep  the  man  more  than  the  actor  lost. 
Unnumbered  parts  he  played,  yet  to  the  end 
His  best  were  those  of  husband,  father,  friend." 

The  deceased's  name  was  John  Henry  Alexander,  who  died 
December  15,  1851. 

From  Glasgow  we  took  rail  to  Ayr,  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
Burns's  birthplace,  and,  at  five  o'clock  of  a  pleasant  afternoon, 
arrived  at  that  little  Scotch  town,  and  as  we  rode  through 
the  streets,  passed  by  the  very  tavern  where  "  Tarn  O'Shan- 
ter  "  held  his  revel  with  "  Souter  Johnny" — a  clean  little  squat 
stone  house,  indicated  by  a  big  sign-board,  on  which  is  a  pic- 
torial representation  of  Tarn  and  his  crony  sitting  together, 
and  enjoying  a  "wee  drapit"  of  something  from  handled 
mugs,  which  they  are  holding  out  to  each  other,  and,  judging 
from  the  size  of  the  mugs,  not  a  "  wee  drapit "  either ;  for  the  old 


84  ta.m  o'shanter's  eide. 

Scotsmen  who  frequent  these  taverns  will  carry  off,  without 
winking,  a  load  beneath  their  jackets  that  would  floor  a  stout 
man  of  ordinary  capacity. 

A  queer  old  town  is  Ayr,  and  at  the  hotel  above  mentioned 
the  curious  tourist  may  not  only  sit  in  the  chairs  of  Tarn  and 
Johnny,  but  in  that  Burns  himself  has  pressed ;  and  if  he  gets 
the  jolly  fat  old  landlord  in  good  humor, — as  he  is  sure  to  get 
when  Americans  order  some  of  his  best "  mountain  dew,"  —  and 
engages  him  in  conversation,  he  may  have  an  opportunity  to 
drink  it  from  the  very  wooden  cup,  now  hooped  with  silver,  from 
which  the  poet  himself  indulged  in  potations,  and  drained  in- 
spiration. 

As  we  ride  over  the  road  from  the  town  of  Ayr — 

"  Auld  Ayr,  whom  ne'er  a  town  surpasses 
For  honest  men  and  bonnie  lasses  "  — 

to  Burns's  birthplace,  and  Alloway  Kirk,  we  find  ourselves 
upon  the  same  course  traversed  by  Tarn  O'Shanter  on  his 
memorable  ride,  and  passing  many  of  those  objects  which,  for 
their  fearful  associations,  gave  additional  terror  to  the  journey, 

and  kept  him 

"  glowering  round  wi'  prudent  cares. 
Lest  bogles  catch  him  unawares." 

A  pleasant  ride  we  had  of  it,  recalling  the  verses,  as  each 
point  mentioned  in  the  ballad,  which  is  such  a  combination 
of  the  ludicrous  and  awful,  came  into  view  and  was  pointed 

out  to  us. 

"  The  ford 
Whare  in  the  snaw  the  chapman  smoored, 
And  past  the  birks  and  meikle  stane, 
Whare  drunken  Charlie  braks  neck-bane; 
And  thro'  the  whins,  and  by  the  cairn, 
Whare  hunters  fand  the  murdered  bairn ; 
And  near  the  thorn  aboon  the  well, 
Whare  Mungo's  mitlier  hanged  hersel." 

But  let  us  stop  at  the  poet's  cottage  —  the  little  one-story 
"clay-biggin"  it  originally  was,  when,  in  1759,  Robert  Burns 
was  born  there,  consisting  only  of  a  kitchen  and  sitting-room ; 


SEEING    ROBERT   BURNS'    COTTAGE.  85 

these  still  remain,  and  in  a  little  recess  in  the  former  is  a  sort 
of  bunk,  or  bed,  where  the  poet  first  saw  light ;  that  is,  what 
little  of  it  stole  in  at  the  deep-set  window  of  this  little  den ; 
additional  rooms  have  been  built  on  to  the  cottage,  including 
a  large  one  for  society  meetings  and  anniversary  dinners ;  the 
little  squat  thatched  cot  is  the  Mecca  of  thousands  of  travel- 
lers from  all  parts  of  the  world,  as  the  visitors'  book  reveals. 
1  An  old  Scotch  woman,  who  was  busy  with  her  week's  iron- 
ing, left  her  work,  for  a  few  moments,  to  show  us  the  rcoms 
and  sell  a  stereoscopic  view,  and  then  returned  to  her  flat- 
irons.  An  old  fellow,  named  "Miller"  Goudie,  and  his  wife, 
used  to  occupy  the  cot.  He  now  rests  in  Alloway  church- 
yard, and,  as  his  epitaph  says, — 

"  For  forty  years  it  was  his  lot 
To  show  the  poet's  humble  cot; 
And,  sometimes  laughin',  sometimes  sobbin', 
Told  his  last  interview  with  Robin  : 
A  quiet,  civil,  blithesome  body, 
Without  a  foe,  was  Miller  Goudie." 

A  framed  autograph  letter  of  Burns,  and  a  picture  of  him 
at  a  masonic  assembly,  adorn  the  walls  of  the  large  room,  and 
are  about  all  of  interest  in  it.  A  short  distance  beyond  the 
cottage,  and  we  come  to  "  Alloway's  auld  haunted  Kirk,"  —  a 
little  bit  of  a  Scotch  church,  with  only  the  walls  standing, 
and  familiar  to  us  from  the  many  pictures  we  had  seen  of  it. 

Here  it  was  that  Tarn  saw  the  witches  dance ;  and  there 
must  have  been  the  very  window,  just  high  enough  for  him  to 
have  looked  in  from  horseback :  just  off  from  the  road  is  the 
kirk,  and  near  enough  for  Tarn  to  have  seen  the  light  through 
the  chinks,  and  hear  the  sound  of  mirth  and  dancing.  Of 
course  I  marched  straight  up  to  the  little  window  towards 
the  road,  and  peeped  in  at  the  very  place  where  Tam  had 
viewed  the  wondrous  sight;  but  such  narrow  and  circum- 
scribed limits  for  a  witches'  dance !  Why,  Nannie's  leap  and 
fling  could  not  have  been  much  in  such  a  wee  bit  of  a  chapel, 
and  I  expressed  that  opinion  audibly,  with  a  derisive  laugh  at 
Scotch  witches,  when,  as  if  to  punish  scepticism,  the  bit  of 


86  A  BEMINDER  FROM  THE  WITCHES. 

stone  which  I  had  propped  up  against  the  wall  to  give  me 
additional  height,  slipped  from  beneath  my  feet,  bringing  my 
chin  in  sharp  contact  with  the  window-sill,  and  giving  me 
such  a  shock  altogether,  that  I  wondered  if  the  witches  were, 
not  still  keeping  guard  over  the  old  place,  for  it  looks  weird 
enough,  with  its  gray,  roofless  walls,  the  dark  ivy  about  them 
flapping  in  the  breeze,  and  the  interior  choked  with  weeds 
and  rubbish. 

In  the  little  burial-ground  of  the  kirk  is  the  grave  of  the 
poet's  father,  marked  by  a  plain  tombstone,  and  bearing  an 
epitaph  written  by  Burns.  Leaving  the  kirk,  a  few  hundred 
yards'  walk  brings  us  to 

"  The  banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Doon," 

and  the  "  auld  brigg "  spanning  it,  over  which  Tarn  O'Shan- 
ter's  mare  Maggie,  clattered  just  in  time  to  save  him  from  the 
witch's  vengeance,  losing  her  tail  in  the  struggle  on  the 
"  keystane."  The  keystone  was  pointed  out  to  us  by  a  little 
Scotch  lassie,  as  we  stood  on  the  bridge,  admiring  the  swift 
stream,  as  it  whirled  under  the  arches,  and  the  old  Scotch 
guide  told  us  "Tarn  had  eight  mair  miles  to  gang  ere  he 
stopit  at  his  own  door-stane." 

Near  this  bridge  is  the  Burns  Monument,  a  sort  of  circular 
structure,  about  sixty  feet  high,  of  Grecian  architecture.  In 
a  circular  apartment  within  the  monument  is  a  glass  case, 
containing  several  relics,  the  most  interesting  of  which  is  the 
Bible  given  by  Burns  to  his  Highland  Mary.  It  is  bound  in 
two  volumes,  and  on  the  fly-leaf  of  the  first  is  inscribed  the 
following  text,  in  the  poet's  handwriting :  "  And  ye  shall  not 
swear  by  my  name  falsely ;  I  am  the  Lord."  (Levit.  xix.  12.) 
And  on  the  leaf  of  the  second,  "  Thou  shalt  not  forswear  thy- 
self, but  shalt  perform  unto  the  Lord  thine  oaths."  (Matt. 
v.  33.)  In  both  volumes  the  poet  has  inscribed  his  autograph, 
and  in  one  of  them  there  rests  a  little  tress  of  Highland 
Mary's  hair. 

The  grounds  —  about  an  acre  in  extent  around  the  monu- 
ment—  are  prettily  laid  out,  and  in  a  little  building,  at  one 


"BONNIE    DOON."  87 

extremity,  are  the  original,  far-famed  figures  of  Tarn  O'Shanter 
and  Souter  Johnny,  chiselled  out  of  solid  freestone  hy  the 
self-taught  sculptor  Thorn;  and  marvellously  well-executed 
figures  they  are,  down  to  the  minutest  details  of  hose  and 
bonnet,  as  they  sit  with  their  mugs  of  good  cheer,  jollily 
pledging  each  other.  This  group,  and  that  of  Tarn  riding 
over  the  bridge,  with  the  witch  just  catching  at  Maggie's  tail, 
are  both  familiar  to  almost  every  American  family,  and  owe 
their  familiarity,  in  more  than  one  instance,  to  the  representa- 
tions of  them  upon  the  cheap  little  pitchers  of  Wedgwood 
ware,  which  are  so  extensively  used  as  syrup  pitchers  wher- 
ever buckwheat  cakes  are  eaten. 

The  ride  back  to  Ayr,  by  a  different  route,  carries  us  past 
some  pleasant  country-seats,  the  low  bridge  of  Doon,  and  a 
lovely  landscape  all  about  us. 

But  we  visited  the  classic  Doon,  with  its  banks  and  braes 
so  "  fresh  and  fair,"  as  most  of  our  countrymen  do  —  did  it  in  a 
day,  dreamed  and  imagined  for  an  hour  in  the  little  old  church- 
yard of  Kirk  Alloway,  leaned  over  the  auld  brig,  and  looked 
down  into  the  running  waters,  and  Avondered  how  often  the 
poet  had  gazed  at  it  from  the  same  place,  or  sauntered  on 
that  romantic  little  pathway  by  its  bank,  where  we  plucked 
daisies,  and  pressed  them  between  the  leaves  of  a  pocket 
edition  of  his  poems,  as  mementos  of  our  visit.  We  did  not 
omit  a  visit  to  the  "twa  brigs"  that  span  the  Ayr.  The 
auld  brig, — 

"  Where  twa  wheel-barrows  tremble  when  they  meet,"  — 

was  erected  in  the  fourteenth  century,  and  was  formerly  steep 
and  narrow,  but  has  been  widened  and  improved  within  the 
past  fifteen  years.  The  new  one,  which  is  about  two  hundred 
yards  from  it,  was  built  in  1788,  and  from  it  a  good  view  of 
the  river  and  the  old  bridge  is  obtained. 

A  ride  round  the  town  shows  us  but  little  of  special  interest 
to  write  of;  a  fine  statue  of  William  Wallace,  cut  by  Thorn,  in 
front  of  a  Gothic  building,  known  as  Wallace  Tower,  being 
the  most  striking  object  that  met  our  view.     From  Ayr  to 


88  NEWCASTLE-OX-TYXE. 

Carlisle,  where  we  saw  the  castle  which  Bruce  failed  to  take 
in  1312,  which  surrendered  to  Prince  Charles  Stuart  in 
1745,  and  which  was  the  scene  of  such  barbarities  on  the 
conquered  on  its  being  retaken  by  the  Duke  of  Cumberland. 
The  old  castle,  or  that  portion  of  it  that  remains,  with  its 
lofty,  massive  tower  and  wall,  makes  an  imposing  appearance, 
and  is  something  like  the  pictures  of  castles  in  the  story- 
books. In  one  portion  of  it  are  the  rooms  occupied  by  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots,  on  her  flight  to  England,  after  the  battle  of 
Lano;side. 

The  old  red  freestone  cathedral,  built  in  the  time  of  the 
Saxons,  where  sleeps  Dr.  Paley,  once  archdeacon,  and  where 
is  a  monument  erected  to  his  memory,  claimed  a  modicum 
of  our  time,  after  which  we  passed  through  Newcastle-on- 
Tyne,  celebrated,  as  all  know  in  these  modern  days,  as  a  port 
of  shipment  for  coal,  and  busy  with  its  glass-houses,  potteries, 
iron  and  steel  factories,  and  machine  shops,  and  OAving  its 
name  to  the  fact  that  Robert,  son  of  William  the  Conqueror, 
built  a  new  castle  here  after  his  return  from  a  military  ex- 
pedition. The  old  donjon  keep  and  tower  still  stand,  massive 
and  blackened,  not  with  the  smoke  of  battle,  but  of  modern 
industry,  which  rises,  in  murky  volumes,  from  many  chimneys. 

On  we  speed,  leaving  Newcastle,  its  dingy  buildings  and 
murky  cloud,  behind,  and  whirl  over  the  railroad,  till  we  reach 
the  beautiful  vale  that  holds  the  "  Metropolis  of  the  North  of 
England,"  as  the  guide-books  style  it,  —  the  ancient  city  of 
York,  —  with  its  Roman  walls,  and  its  magnificent  minster ;  a 
city,  which,  A.  D.  150,  was  one  of  the  gi-eatest  of  the  Roman 
stations  in  England,  and  had  a  regular  government,  an  im- 
perial palace,  and  a  tribunal  within  its  walls.  York,  which 
carries  us  back  to  school-boy  days,  when  we  studied  of  the 
wars  of  the  Roses,  and  the  houses  of  York  and  Lancaster — 
York,  whose  modern  namesake,  more  than  seventeen  hundred 
years  its  junior,  in  the  New  World,  has  seventeen  times  its 
population. 

York  —  yes,  in  York  one  feels  that  he  is  in  Old  England 
indeed.     Here  are  the  old  walls,  still  strong  and  massy,  that 


YOKK.  89 

have  echoed  to  the  tramp  of  the  Roman  legions,  that  looked 
down  on  Adrian  and  Constantino  the  Great,  that  have  succes- 
sively been  manned  by  Britons,  Picts,  Danes,  and  Saxons,  the 
latter  under  the  command  of  Hengist,  mentioned  in  the  story- 
legends  that  tell  of  the  pair  of  warlike  Saxon  brothers,  Hengist 
and  Horsa,  the  latter,  whose  name  in  my  youthful  days  al- 
ways seemed  to  have  some  mysterious  connection  with  the 
great  white-horse  banner  of  the  Saxon  warriors,  that  was 
wont  to  float  from  the  masts  of  their  war  ships. 

It  was  in  York  that  the  first  Christmas  wras  ever  kept  in 
England.  This  was  done  by  King  Arthur  and  his  nobility 
when  he  began  to  rebuild  the  churches,  in  the  year  500,  that 
the  Saxons  had  destroyed. 

York  was  once  a  place  where  many  Jews  dwelt.  "We  all 
remember  Isaac  of  York,  in  the  story  of  Ivanhoe ;  and  the 
great  massacre  of  this  people  there  in  1490,  wdien  over  two 
thousand  fell  victims  to  popular  fury. 

But  I  am  not  going  to  give  a  chronological  history  of  this 
interesting  city,  for  there  is  scarcely  an  American  reader  of 
English  history  but  will  recall  a  score  of  noteworthy  events 
that  have  occurred  within  its  ancient  Avails. 

The  great  and  crowning  wonder  here  to  the  tourist  is,  of 
course,  the  cathedral,  or  the  minster,  as  it  is  called.  This 
magnificent  and  stupendous  pile,  which  occupied  nearly  two 
hundred  years  in  erection,  and  4ias  stood  for  three  hundred 
years  since  its  completion,  is,  without  doubt,  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  Gothic  structures  in  the  world,  and  excels  in 
beauty  and  magnificence  most  ecclesiastical  buildings  of  the 
middle  ages.  After  a  walk  through  a  quaint  old  quarter  of 
the  city,  and  a  stroll  on  the  parapets  of  the  great  wall,  throagh 
some  of  the  gates,  with  the  round,  solid  watch-towers  above 
them,  pierced  with  arrow-slits  for  crossbowmen,  or  having, 
high  above,  little  turrets  for  sentinels,  I  was  in  the  mood  for 
the  sight  of  the  grand  old  cathedral,  but  not  at  all  prepared 
for  the  superb  and  elegant  proportions  of  the  pile  which  sud- 
denly appeared  to  view,  as  I  turned  a  corner  of  a  street. 

The  length  of  this  majestic  pile  is  five  hundred  and  twenty- 


90  •  YORK   MINSTER. 

four  feet,  and  its  breadth  two  hundred  and  twenty-two,  and 
the  height  of  its  two  square  and  massive  towers  one  hundred 
and  ninety-six  feet.  I  got  a  west  view  of  the  building  first, 
which  is  what  I  should  suppose  was  properly  its  front,  con- 
sisting of  the  two  tall  square  towers,  with  the  main  entrance 
between  them,  surmounted  by  a  great  Gothic  window,  ex- 
hibiting a  magnificent  specimen  of  the  leafy  and  fairy-like 
tracery  of  the  fourteenth  century.  Tall,  pointed  arches  are 
above  it,  and  the  two  towers  are  also  adorned  with  windows, 
and  elaborate  ornamentation.  To  the  rear  of  them,  at  the 
end  of  the  nave  and  between  the  two  transepts,  rises  the  cen- 
tral tower  two  hundred  and  thirteen  feet.  There  is  a  fine 
open  space  in  front  of  this  glorious  west  front,  and  no  lover 
of  architecture  can  come  upon  it  for  the  first  time  without 
standing  entranced  at  the  wondrous  beauty  of  the  building  in 
proportion,  decoration,  and  design. 

Churches  occupied  the  site  of  York  Cathedral  centuries  be- 
fore it.  One  was  built  here  by  King  Edwin,  in  627 ;  another 
in  767,  which  stood  till  1069 ;  but  the  present  building  was 
founded  in  1171,  and  completed  in  the  year  1400. 

The  expectations  created  by  an  external  view  of  its  archi- 
tectural grandeur  and  rich  embellishments  are  surpassed  upon 
an  examination  of  the  interior,  a  particular  description  of 
which  would  require  almost  a  volume  to  give  space  to.  We 
can  only,  therefore,  take  a  glance  at  it. 

First,  there  is  the  great  east  window,  which,  for  magnitude 
and  beauty  of  coloring,  is  unequalled  in  the  world.  Only 
think  of  a  great  arch  seventy-Jive  feet  Jiigh,  and  over  thirty 
feet  broad,  a  glory  of  stained  glass !  The  upper  part  is  a 
piece  of  admirable  tracery,  and  below  it  are  over  a  hundred 
compartments,  occupied  witb  scriptural  representations  — ■ 
saints,  priests,  angels,  &c.  Each  pane  of  glass  is  a  yard 
square,  and  the  figures  two  feet  three  inches  in  length.  Right 
across  this  great  window  runs  what  I  supposed  to  be  a  strong 
iron  rod,  or  wire,  but  which  turned  out  to  be  a  stone  gallery 
or  piazza,  a  bridge  big  enough  for  a  person  to  cross  upon,  and 
from  which  the  view  that  is  had  of  the  whole  interior  of  this 


BEAUTIES    OF    YORK   MINSTER.  91 

oreat  minster — a  vista  of  Gothic  arches  and  clustered  col- 
umns  of  more  than  five  hundred  feet  in  length,  terminated  by 
the  great  west  window,  with  its  gorgeous  display  of  colored 
glass  —  is  grand  beyond  description.  The  great  west  window 
contains  pictured  representations  of  the  eight  earliest  arch- 
bishops of  York,  and  eight  saints,  and  other  figures.  It  was 
put  up  in  1338,  and  is  remarkable  for  its  richness  of  coloring. 

Besides  the  great  east  and  west  windows,  there  are  sixteen 
in  the  nave  and  fifteen  in  the  side  aisles.  In  the  south  tran- 
sept, which  is  the  oldest  part  of  the  building,  high  up  above 
the  entrance,  in  the  point  of  the  arch,  is  the  great  "  marigold 
window,"  formed  of  two  concentric  circles  of  small  arches  in 
the  form  of  a  wheel,  the  lights  of  which  give  it  the  appearance 
of  the  flower  from  which  it  is  named,  the  diameter  of  this 
great  stone  and  glass  marigold  being  over  thirty  feet.  Then, 
in  the  north  transept,  opposite,  is  another  window  of  exquisite 
coloring  —  those  warm,  deep,  mellow  hues  of  the  old  artisans 
in  colored  glass,  which  the  most  cunning  of  their  modern 
•successors  seek  in  vain  to  rival.  It  appears,  as  it  were,  a  vast 
embroidery  frame  in  five  sections,  each  section  a  different  pat- 
tern of  those  elaborate  traceries  and  exquisite  hues  of  needle- 
work with  which  noble  ladies  whiled  away  their  time  in  castle- 
bower,  while  their  knights  fought  the  infidel  in  distant  clime. 
This  noble  window  is  known  as  the  "  Five  Sisters,"  from  the 
fact  that  the  pattern  is  said  to  have  been  wrought  from  de- 
signs in  needle-work  of  five  maiden  sisters  of  York. 

The  story  of  these  sisters  is  told  by  Dickens  in  the  sixth 
chapter  of  Nicholas  Nickleby.  This  magnificent  window  is 
fifty-seven  feet  in  height,  and  it  was  put  in  in  the  year  1290. 
The  other  windows  I  cannot  spare  space  to  refer  to  ;  suffice  it 
to  say  the  windows  of  this  cathedral  present  a  gorgeous  dis- 
play of  ancient  stained  glass  not  to  be  met  with  in  any  similar 
building  in  the  world.  In  fact,  the  minster  exhibits  more 
windows  than  solid  fabric  to  exterior  view,  imparting  a  mar- 
vellous degree  of  lightness  to  the  huge  structure,  while  inside 
the  vastness  of  the  space  gives  the  spectator  opportunity  to 
stand  at  a  proper  distance,  and  look  up  at  them  as  they  are 


92  MAGNIFICENT   ARCHITECTURAL   EFFECTS. 

stretched  before  the  view  like  great  paintings,  framed  in  ex- 
quisite tracery  of  stone-work,  with  the  best  possible  effect  of 
light.  The  glass  of  these  windows,  I  was  informed  by  the 
verger  who  acted  as  our  guide,  was  taken  out  and  hidden 
during  the  iconoclastic  excitement  of  Cromwell's  time,  and 
they  are  now  the  only  ones  that  have  preserved  the  ancient 
glass  intact  in  the  kingdom.  The  most  valuable  are  protected 
by  a  strong  shield  of  extra  plate  glass  outside. 

From  the  painted  glories  of  the  windows  the  visitor's  eye 
sweeps  over  the  vast  expanse  of  clustered  pillars,  lofty  Gothic 
arches,  and  splendid  vistas  of  Gothic  columns  on  every  side. 
In  the  great  western  aisle,  or  nave,  a  perspective  view  of  full 
three  hundred  feet  of  columns  and  arches  is  had ;  and  stand- 
ing upon  the  pavement,  you  look  to  the  grand  arched  roof, 
which  is  clear  ninety-nine  feet  above,  and  the  eye  is  fairly 
dazed  with  the  immensity  of  space.  The  screen,  as  it  is 
called,  which  separates  the  nave  from  the  choir,  rises  just 
high  enough  to  form  a  support  for  the  organ,  without  con- 
cealing from  view  the  grand  arches  and  columns  of  the  choir, 
which  stretch  far  away,  another  vista  of  two  hundred  and 
sixty-four  feet,  before  the  bewildered  view  of  the  visitor,  who 
finds  himself  almost  awe-struck  in  the  very  vastness  and  sub- 
limity of  this  grand  architectural  creation. 

The  screen  is  a  most  elaborate  and  superb  piece  of  sculp- 
ture, and  is  ornamented  with  the  statues  of  the  English  kings} 
from  the  time  of  William  the  Conqueror  to  Henry  VI.,  fifteen 
in  number.  The  great  choir,  with  its  exuberant  disj)lay 
of  carving,  richly-ornamented  stalls,  altar,  and  side  aisles, 
screened  with  carved  oak,  is  another  wonder.  Here  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  listening  to  the  choral  service,  performed  by 
the  full  choir  of  men  and  boys  attached  to  the  cathedral ;  and 
I '  stood  out  among  the  monuments  of  old  archbishops  and 
warriors  of  five  hundred  years  agone,  and  heard  that  sweet 
chant  float  upon  the  swelling  peals  of  the  organ,  away  up 
amid  the  lofty  groined  arches  of  the  grand  old  minster,  till 
its  dying  echoes  were  lost  amid  the  mysterious  tracery  above, 
or  the  grand,  full  chorus  of  powerful  voices  made  the  lofty 


GEOMETRICAL   ARCHITECTURE.  93 

roof  to  ring  again,  as  it  were,  with  heavenly  melody.  There 
was  every  appeal  to  the  ear,  the  eye,  the  imagination ;  and  I 
may  say  it  seemed  the  very  poetry  of  religion,  and  poetry  of 
a  sublime  order,  too. 

An  attempt  even  at  a  description  of  the  different  monu- 
ments of  the  now  almost  forgotten,  and  many  entirely  forgot- 
ten, dignitaries  and  benefactors  of  the  church  that  are  found 
all  along  the'  great  side  aisles,  would  be  a  useless  task.  Some 
are  magnificent  structures  of  marble,  with  elegantly-sculptured 
effigies  of  bishops  in  their  ecclesiastical  robes.  Others  once 
were  magnificent  in  sculptured  stone  and  brass,  but  have  been 
defaced  by  time  and  vandalism,  and,  in  their  shattered  ruin, 
tell  the  story  of  man's  last  vanity,  or  are  a  most  striking- 
illustration  of  what  a  perishable  shadow  is  human  greatness. 

The  Chapter-house  attached  to  York  Minster  is  said  to  be 
the  most  perfect  specimen  of  Gothic  architecture  in  the  world, 
and  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  magnificent  interiors  of  the 
kind  I  ever  gazed  upon.  The  records  of  the  church  give  no 
information  as  to  whom  this  superb  edifice  was  erected  by, 
or  at  what  period,  and  the  subject  is  one  of  dispute  among 
the  antiquaries,  who  suppose  it  must  have  been  built  either 
in  the  year  1200  or  1300.  It  is  a  perfect  octagon,  of  sixty- 
three  feet  in  diameter,  and  the  height  from  the  centre  to  the 
middle  knot  of  the  roof  sixty-seven  feet,  without  the  interrup- 
tion of  a  single  pillar,  —  being  wholly  dependent  on  a  single 
key-pin,  geometrically  placed  in  the  centre. 

Seven  squares  of  the  octagon  have  each  a  window  of 
stained  glass,  with  the  armorial  bearings  of  benefactors  of  the 
church,  the  eighth  octagon  being  the  entrance;  below  the 
windows  arc  the  seats,  or  stalls,  for  the  canons  and  dignitaries 
of  the  church,  when  they  assemble  here  for  installations  and 
other  purposes.  The  columns  around  the  side  of  this  room 
are  carved,  in  the  most  profuse  maimer,  with  the  most  singu- 
lar figures,  such  as  an  ugly  old  friar  embracing  a  young  girl, 
to  the  infinite  delight  of  a  group,  of  nuns,  grotesque  figures  of 
men  and  animals,  monks  playing  all  sorts  of  pranks,  grinning 
faces,  &c.    The  whole  formation  of  this  exquisitely-constructed 


94  OLD    SxVXON   KELICS. 

building  shows  a  thorough  geometric  knowledge  in  the  build 
ers,  and  the  entrance  to  it  is  by  a  vestibule,  in  the  form  of  a 
mason's  square. 

In  the  vestries  we  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  many  and 
well-authenticated  historical  curiosities.  The  most  ancient  of 
these  is  the  famous  Horn  of  Ulphus,  the  great  Saxon  drinking 
horn,  from  which  Ulphus  was  wont  to  drink,  and  by  which 
the  church  still  holds  valuable  estates  near  York.  With  this 
great  ivory  horn,  filled  with  wine,  the  old  chieftain  knelt  before 
the  high  altar,  and,  solemnly  quaffing  a  deep  draught,  be- 
stowed upon  the  church  by  the  act  all  his  lands,  tenements, 
&c,  giving  to  the  holy  fathers  the  horn  as  their  title  deed, 
which  they  have  preserved  ever  since;  and  their  successors 
permit  sacrilegious  Yankees,  like  myself,  to  press  their  lips  to 
its  brim,  while  examining  the  old  relic. 

A  more  modern  drinking-cup  is  the  ancient  wooden  bowl, 
which  was  presented  by  Archbishop  Scrope  —  who  was  be- 
headed in  the  year  1405  —  to  the  Society  of  Oordwainers  in 
1398,  and  by  them  given  to  the  church  in  1808.  This  more 
sensible  drinking-cup  has  silver  legs  and  a  silver  rim,  and  not 
only  is  it  well  adapted  for  a  jorum  of  punch,  but  the  good 
archbishop  made  it  worth  while  to  drink  from  it,  according 
to  the  ancient  inscription  upon  it,  in  Old  English  characters, 
which  reads,  — 

Sftfchartie  arrij  fcesrijope  .Scroope  pant  unto  all  tho  tTjat 
tm'nlu's  of  this  rope  I3Lti  Dags  to  partem. 

Besides  this,  we  had  the  pleasure  of  grasping  the  solid 
silver  crosier,  given  by  Queen  Catharine,  widow  of  King 
Charles  II.  to  her  confessor,  a  staff  of  weight  and  value, 
seven  feet  in  length,  elegantly  wrought  in  appropriate  de- 
signs. We  were  also  shown  the  official  rings  found  in  the 
forgotten  tombs  of  archbishops,  in  repairing  the  church  pave- 
ment, bearing  their  dates  of  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries. 
The  antique  chair  in  which  the  Saxon  kings  were  crowned  is 
here  —  a  relic  older  than  the  cathedral  itself;  and  as  "  uneasy 
lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown,"  uncomfortable  must  have 


A    SAD   RECORD.  95 

been  the  seat  of  him  that  wore  it  also,  if  my  few  minutes' 
experience  between  its  great  arms  is  worth  anything;  but, 
still,  it  was  something  to  have  sat  in  the  very  chair  in  which 
the  bloody  Richard  III.  had  been  crowned,  —  for  both  he 
and  James  I.  were  crowned  in  this  chair,  —  thinking  at 
the  time,  while  I  mentally  execrated  the  crooked  tyrant's 
memory,  of  the  words  Shakespeare  put  into  his  mouth :  — 

"  Is  the  chair  empty?    Is  the  sword  unswayed? 
Is  the  king  dead?  the  empire  unpossessed? 
What  heir  of  York  is  there  alive  but  we  ? 
And  who  is  England's  king  but  great  York's  heir?" 

Here  we  were  shown  an  old  Bible,  presented  by  King 
Charles  II.,  the  old  communion  plate,  which  is  five  hundred 
years  old,  the  old  vestment  chest,  of  carved  oak,  of  the  time 
of  Edward  III.,  with  the  legend  of  St.  George  and  the  Dragon 
represented  upon  it,  a  Bible  of  1671,  presented  by  James  I., 
and  other  interesting  antiquities. 

I  concluded  my  visit  to  this  glorious  old  minster  by  ascend- 
ing the  Central  or  Lantern  Tower,  as  it  is  called,  which  rises 
to  a  height  of  two  hundred  and  thirteen  feet  from  the  pave- 
ment, and  from  which  I  had  a  magnificent  view  of  the  city  of 
York  and  the  surrounding  country. 

Although  forbearing  an  attempt  to  enter  upon  any  detailed 
descriptions  of  numerous  beautiful  monuments  in  the  cathe- 
dral, I  cannot  omit  referring  to  the  many  modern  memorials 
of  British  officers  and  soldiers  who  have  perished  in  different 
parts  of  the  world,  fighting  the  battles  of  their  sovereign. 
Here  is  one  to  six  hundred  officers  and  privates  of  the  nine- 
teenth regiment  of  foot,  who  fell  in  Russia,  in  1854-5 ;  another 
to  three  hundred  officers  and  privates  of  the  fifty-first,  who  fell 
at  Burmah,  in  1852-3 ;  a  monument  to  three  hundred  and 
seventy-three  of  the  eighty-fourth,  who  perished  during  the 
mutiny  and  rebellion  in  India  in  1857,  '8  and  '9;  a  memorial 
slab  to  six  hundred  officers  and  men  of  the  thirty-third  West 
York,  or  Wellington's  Own,  who  lost  their  lives  in  the  Rus- 
sian campaign  of  1854-G;  a  beautiful,  elaborate  monument 


96  SHEFFIELD. 

to  Colonel  Moore  and  those  of  the  Inniskillen  Dragoons,  who 
perished  with  him  in  a  transport  vessel  at  sea,&c. 

There  is  not  a  church  or  cathedral,  not  in  ruins,  that  the 
tourist  visits  in  Great  Britain,  but  that  he  reads  the  bloody 
catalogue  of  victims  of  England's  glory  recorded  on  mural 
tablets  or  costly  monuments,  a  glory  that  seems  built  upon 
hecatombs  of  lives,  showing  that  the  very  empire  itself  is 
held  together  by  the  cement  of  human  blood,  —  blood,  too, 
of  the  dearest  and  the  bravest,  —  for  I  have  read  upon  costly 
monuments,  reared  by  titled  parents,  of  noble  young  soldiers, 
of  twenty-tAvo  and  twenty  years,  and  even  younger,  who  have 
fallen  "  victims  to  Chinese  treachery,"  "  perished  in  a  typhoon 
in  the  Indian  Ocean,"  "  been  massacred  in  India,"  "  lost  at  sea," 
"  killed  in  the  Crimea."  They  have  fallen  upon  the  burning 
sands  of  India,  amid  the  snows  of  Russia,  or  in  the  depths  of 
savage  forests,  or  sunk  beneath  the  j^itiless  wave,  in  uphold- 
ing the  blood-red  banner  of  that  nation.  This  fearful  record 
that  one  encounters  upon  every  side  is  a  terrible  and  bloody 
reckoning  of  the  cost  of  the  great  nation's  glory  and  power. 

From  the  glories  of  York  Minster,  from  the  pleasant  and 
dreamy  walks  on  delightful  spring  days,  upon  its  old  walls, 
and  beneath  its  antique  gateways,  its  ruined  cloisters  of  St. 
Leonard's,  founded  by  Athelstane  the  Saxon,  and  the  stately 
ruins  of  St.  Mary's  Abbey,  with  the  old  Norman  arch  and 
shattered  Avails,  Ave  will  glance  at  an  English  city  under  a 
cloud,  or,  I  might  almost  say,  under  a  pall,  for  the  great  black 
banner  that  lianas  OA'er  Sheffield  is  almost  dark  enough  for 
one,  and  in  that  respect  reminds  us  of  our  oavii  Pittsburg, 
with  the  e\'erlasting  coal  smoke  permeating  and  j)enetrating 
everywhere  and  everything, 

The  streets  of  Sheffield  have  the  usual  grimy,  smoky  ap- 
pearance of  a  manufacturing  place,  and,  apart  from  the  steel 
and  cutlery  AA'orks,  there  is  but  little  of  interest  here.  One 
cannot  help  observing,  hoAveArer,  the  more  abject  squalor  and 
misery  which  appear  in  some  of  the  poorer  neighborhoods, 
than  is  CArer  seen  in  similar  toAvns  or  cities  in  America.  The 
spirit  shops,  with  their  bold  signs  of  different  kinds  of  liquors, 


TILE    CUTLERY    WORKS.  97 

and  the  gin  saloons,  with  their  great  painted  casks  reared  on 
high  behind  the  counter,  at  which  women  serve  out  the  blue 
ruin,  are  visible  explanations  of  the  cause  of  no  small  portion 
of  the  misery. 

I  found  the  cutlery  works  that  I  visited  conducted  far  dif- 
ferently than  we  manage  such  things  in  America,  where  the 
whole  work  wovdd  be  carried  on  in  one  great  factory,  and 
from  year  to  year  improvements  made  in  machinery,  interior 
arrangements,  &c. ;  but  here  the  effort  seems  to  be,  on  the 
part  of  the  workmen,  to  resist  every  advance  or  improvement 
possible. 

We  visited  the  great  show-rooms  of  Rogers  &  Sons,  where 
specimens  of  every  description  of  knives,  razors,  scissors,  cork- 
screws, boot-hooks,  &c,  that  they  manufacture,  were  exhibited, 
a  very  museum  of  steel  work ;  and  a  young  salesman  was  de- 
tailed to  answer  the  questions  and  show  the  same,  including 
the  celebrated  many-bladed  knife,  which  has  one  blade  added 
for  every  year. 

A  visit  to  Joseph  Elliot  &  Son's  razor  works  revealed  to 
us  the  manner  in  which  many  of  the  manufacturers  carry  on 
their  business.  We  found  the  workmen  not  all  together  in 
one  factory,  but  in  different  buildings.  In  one  was  where  the 
first  rough  process  of  forging  was  performed ;  from  thence, 
perhaps  across  a  street,  the  blades  received  further  touches 
from  other  workmen,  and  so  on,  till,  when  ready  for  grinding 
and  polishing,  they  were  carried  to  the  grinding  and  polish- 
ing works,  some  distance  off,  and  finally  returned  to  a  build- 
ing near  the  warerooms,  to  be  joined  to  the  handles,  after 
which  they  were  papered  and  packed,  immediately  adjoin- 
ing the  warerooms  proper,  where  sales  were  made  and  goods 
delivered. 

I  was  surprised,  in  visiting  the  forges  where  the  elastic 
metal  was  beat  into  graceful  blades,  to  find  them  little  dingy 
nooks  and  corners  in  a  series  of  old  rookeries  of  buildings, 
often  badly  lighted,  cramped  and  inconvenient,  and  difficult" 
of  access.  No  American  workmen  would  work  in  such  a 
place ;  but  in  watching  the  progi-ess  of  the  work,  we  saw  in* 
7 


98  ENGLISH   MECHANICS. 

stances  of  the  skill  and  thoroughness  of  British  mechanics, 
who  have  devoted  their  life  to  one  particular  branch  of  manu 
facture  —  the  precision  of  stroke  in  forging,  the  rapidity  with 
which  it  was  done,  to  say  nothing  of  the  reliability,  which  is 
one  characteristic  of  English  work. 

In  that  country,  where  the  ranks  of  every  department  of 
labor  are  so  crowded,  there  seems  to  be  an  ambition  as  to 
who  shall  do  the  best  work,  who  shall  be  he  that  turns  out 
the  most  skilfully  wrought  article ;  and  of  course  the  incentive 
to  this  ambition  is  a  permanent  situation,  and  a  workman 
whom  the  master  will  be  the  last  to  part  with  in  dull  times. 
Then,  again,  in  the  battle  for  life,  for  absolute  bread  and 
butter,  people  are  only  too  glad  to  make  a  sacrifice  to  learn 
a  trade  that  will  provide  it.  No  boy  can  set  up  as  a  journey- 
man here  after  a  couple  of  years'  experience,  as  they  do  in 
America.  There  are  no  such  bunglers  in  every  department 
of  mechanical  work  as  in  our  country.  To  do  journeyman's 
work  and  earn  journeyman's  pay,  a  man  must  have  served  a 
regular  apprenticeship,  and  have  learned  his  business ;  and  he 
has  to  pay  his  master  for  giving  him  the  opportunity,  and 
teaching  him  a  trade,  by  which  he  can  work  and  receive  a 
journeyman's  pay  —  which  is  right  and  proper.  The  com- 
pensation may  be  in  the  advantage  the  master  gets  from  good 
work  at  a  low  figure  in  the  last  years  of  the  apprenticeship, 
or  in  some  kinds  of  business  in  a  stipulated  sum  of  money 
paid  to  him.  Yet  in  England  he  gets  some  return,  instead 
of  having  his  workman,  as  is  generally  the  case  in  America, 
as  soon  as  he  ceases  to  spoil  material  and  becomes  of  some 
value,  desert  him  sans  ceremonie. 

The  difficulty,  in  America,  lies  in  the  enormous  demand  for 
mechanical  labor,  so  large  that  many  are  willing  and  obliged 
to  receive  inferior  work  or  none  at  all,  in  the  haste  that  all 
have  to  be  rich,  the  boy  to  have  journeyman's  wages,  the 
journeyman  to  be  foreman,  and  foreman  to  be  contractor  and 
manager,  and  the  abundant  opportunity  for  them  all  to  be  so 
with  the  very  smallest  qualifications  for  the  positions. 

It  is  the  thorough  workmanship  of  many  varieties  of  British 


TRADES  THOROUGHLY  LEARNED.  99 

goods  that  makes  them  so  much  superior  to  those  of  American 
manufacture  ;  and  we  may  talk  in  this  country  as  much  as  we 
please  about  its  being  snobbish  to  prefer  foreign  to  American 
manufactured  goods,  yet  just  as  long  as  the  American  article 
is  inferior  in  quality,  durability,  and  finish  to  the  foreign  ar- 
ticle, just  so  long  will  people  of  means  and  education  pur- 
chase it.  I  believe  in  encouraging  American  manufactures 
to  their  fullest  extent ;  but  let  American  manufacturers,  when 
they  are  encouraged  by  protection  or  whatever  means,  prove 
by  their  products  that  they  are  deserving  it,  as  it  is  gratify- 
ing to  know  that  many  of  them  have ;  and  in  this  very  article 
of  steel,  the  great  Pittsburg  steel  workers,  such  as  Park  Bros.  & 
Co.,  Hussey,  Wells,  &  Co.,  Anderson,  Cook,  &  Co.,  and  others 
in  that  city  and  Philadelphia,  whose  names  do  not  now  occur 
to  me,  have  actually,  in  some  departments  of  their  business, 
beaten  the  British  manufacturers  in  excellence  and  finish, 
proving  that  it  can  be  done  in  America.  "When  visiting  the 
great  iron  works,  forges,  and  factories  in  Pittsburg,  I  have 
frequently  encountered,  in  the  different  departments,  skilled 
workmen  from  Birmingham,  Sheffield,  and  other  English 
manufacturing  towns,  who,  of  course,  were  doing  much  better 
than  at  home,  and  whose  thorough  knowledge  of  their  trade 
never  failed  to  be  the  burden  of  the  managers'  commendation. 

A  razor  is  beaten  out  into  shape,  ground,  tempered,  polished, 
and  finished  much  more  speedily  than  I  imagined ;  and  as  an 
illustration  of  the  cheapness  at  which  one  can  be  produced, 
very  good  ones  are  made  by  Rogers  &  Sons  for  six  shillings 
a  dozen,  or  sixpence  each.  This  can  be  done  because  they 
are  made  by  apprentices,  whose  wages  are  comparatively 
trifling.  A  very  large  number  of  these  razors  go  to  the 
United  States.  Rogers'  knives  and  razors  of  the  finer  de- 
scriptions generally  command  a  slight  advance  over  those 
of  other  manufacturers,  although  there  are  some  here  even  in 
Sheffield  whose  work  is  equally  good  in  every  respect. 

The  Messrs.  Elliot's  razors  are  celebrated  for  their  excel- 
lence both  in  England  and  this  country.  In  visiting  their 
works  I  was  received  by  one  of  the  partners,  a  man  who  owns 


100  ENGLISH   ALE. 

his  elegant  country-house,  and  enjoys  a  handsome  income,  but 
who  was  in  his  great  wareroom,  with  his  workman's  apron 
on  —  a  badge  which  he  seemed  to  wear  as  a  matter  of  course, 
and  in  no  way  affecting  his  position ;  and  I  then  remembered 
one  American  gentleman,  who,  after  rising  to  affluence,  was 
never  too  proud  to  wear  his  apron  if  he  thought  that  part  of 
his  dress  necessary  about  his  business,  and  he  a  man  we  all 
remember  sans  reproche — the  late  Jonas  Chickering,  the  great 
piano  manufacturer  of  Boston. 

At  Needham  Brothers'  cutlery  works  we  saw  table  knives 
beaten  out  of  the  rough  steel  with  an  astonishing  rapidity, 
passed  from  man  to  man,  till  the  black,  shapeless  lump  was 
placed  in  my  hand  a  trenchant  blade,  fit  for  service  at  the 
festive  board.  Both  here  and  at  Elliot  &  Sons'  razor  works 
we  saw  invoices  of  handsome  cutlery  in  process  of  manufac- 
ture for  the  American  market. 

The  grinders  and  polishers  here  receive  the  highest  wages, 
on  account  of  the  unhealthy  nature  of  the  employment,  which 
has  frequently  been  described,  the  fine  particles  of  steel  af- 
fecting the  lungs  so  that  the  grinders  are  said  to  be  short- 
lived men,  and  their  motto  "  a  short  life  and  a  merry  one," 
as  I  was  informed ;  the  "  merry "  part  consisting  of  getting 
uproariously  drunk  between  Saturday  night  and  Tuesday 
morning.  These  grinders  are  also  exceedingly  jealous  of  ap- 
prentices, and  I  shrewdly  suspect  in  some  degree  magnify 
the  dangers  of  their  calling,  in  order  that  their  numbers  may 
be  kept  as  few,  and  wages  as  high,  as  possible. 

A  vast  deal  of  ale  is  drank  in  Sheffield,  as  may  well  be  im- 
agined ;  and  the  great  arched  vaults  which  form  the  support 
to  a  bridge,  or  causeway,  out  from  the  railway  station  to  the 
streets  of  the  city,  are  filled  with  hundreds  on  hundreds  of 
barrels  of  this  popular  English  beverage.  And  in  truth,  to 
enjoy  good  ale,  and  get  good  ale,  one  must  go  to  England  for 
it ;  the  butler  on  the  stage  who  said,  "  They  'ave  no  good 
hale  in  Hamerica,  because  they  ain't  got  the  opps,"  spoke 
comparatively,  no  doubt ;  but  at  the  little  English  inns,  upon 
benches  beneath  the  branches  of  a  great  tree,  or  in  cleanly 


CIIATSWOETH.  101 

sanded  little  public-house  parlors  at  the  windows,  looking  out 
upon  charming  English  landscapes,  the  frothing  tankards  are 
especially  inviting  and  comforting  to  those  using  them; 
while,  per  contra,  the  foul,  stale  effluvia  from  the  sloppy 
dens  in  this  city,  which  were  thronged  when  the  men  were 
off  work,  the  bluff,  bloated,  and  sodden  appearance  of  ardent 
lovers  of  the  ale  of  England,  were  evidence  that  its  use  might 
be  abused,  as  well  as  that  of  more  potent  fluids. 
'  There  is  comi:>aratively  little  of  historical  interest  in  Shef 
field  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  tourist.  There  was  an 
old  castle  erected  there  at  an  early  period,  and,  at  a  place 
called  Sheffield  Manor-house,  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  passed 
over  thirty  years  of  her  imprisonment ;  but  the  chief  interest 
of  the  place  is,  of  course,  its  cutlery  manufactories,  and  its 
reputation  for  good  knives  dates  back  to  the  thirteenth  centu- 
ry, when  it  was  noted  as  the  place  where  a  kind  of  knife 
known  as  "  Whittles  "  were  made.  The  presence  of  iron  ore, 
coal,  and  also  the  excellent  water  power  near  the  city,  make 
it  a  veiy  advantageous  place  for  such  work.  The  great  grind- 
ing works  in  the  city,  where  the  largest  proportion  of  that 
work  is  done,  are  driven  by  steam  power.  Besides  cutlery  in 
all  its  branches,  Sheffield  turns  out  plated  goods,  Britannia 
ware,  brass  work,  buttons,  &c,  in  large  quantities. 

Leaving  the  smoke,  hum,  clatter,  and  dingy  atmosphere  of 
a  great  English  manufacturing  city,  we  took  rail,  and  sped  on 
till  we  reached  Matlock-Bath.  Here  debarking,  we  took  an 
open  carriage  for  Edensor,  a  little  village  belonging  to  the 
Duke  of  Devonshire,  and  situated  upon  a  portion  of  Iris  mag- 
nificent estate,  the  finest  estate  of  any  nobleman  in  England. 
And  some  idea  of  its  extent  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact 
that  its  pleasure  park  contains  two  thousand  acres.  Our  ride 
to  this  estate,  known  as  Chatsworth,  was  another  one  of  those 
enjoyable  experiences  of  charming  English  scenery,  over  a 
pleasant  drive  of  ten  miles,  till  we  entered  upon  the  duke's 
estates,  and  drove  across  one  corner,  for  a  mile  or  more,  to  a 
pretty  little  road-side  inn,  where  we  were  welcomed  by  a 
white-aproned  landlord,  landlady,  and  waiter,  just  such  as  are 


102  A   BEAUTIFUL    SCENE. 

described  by  the  noval  writers,  and  people  to  whom  the 
hurried,  bustling,  imperious  manner  of  go-ahead  Americans 
seems  most  extraordinary  and  surprising. 

The  Duke  of  Devonshire's  landed  property  is  just  such  a 
one  as  an  American  should  visit  to  realize  the  impressions  he 
has  received  of  a  nobleman's  estate  from  English  stories,  nov- 
els, and  dramatic  representations.  Here  great  reaches  of 
beautiful  greensward  swept  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
with  groups  of  magnificent  oaks  in  the  landscape  view,  and 
troops  of  deer  bounding  off  in  the  distance.  Down  the  slope, 
here  and  there,  came  the  ploughman,  homeward  plodding 
his  weary  way,  in  almost  the  same  costume  that  Westall  has 
drawn  him  in  his  exquisite  little  vignette,  in  the  Chiswick 
edition  of  Gray's  poems.  There,  in  "  the  open,"  upon  the 
close-cut  turf,  as  we  approached  the  village,  was  a  party  of 
English  boys,  playing  the  English  game  of  cricket.  Here,  in 
a  sheltered  nook  beneath  two  tall  trees,  nestled  the  cottage  — 
the  pretty  English  cottage  of  one  of  the  duke's  gamekeepers. 
The  garden  was  gay  with  many-colored  flowers,  three  chubby 
children  were  rolling  over  each  other  on  the  grass,  and  a  little 
brook  wimpled  on  its  course  down  towards  groups  of  cluster- 
ing alders,  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  Farther  on,  we  meet  the 
gamekeeper  himself,  with  his  double-barrelled  gun  and  game- 
pouch,  and  followed  by  two  splendid  pointers.  There  were 
hill  and  dale,  river  and  lake,  oaks  and  forest,  wooded  hills  and 
rough  rocks,  grand  old  trees,  — 

"  The  brave  old  oak, 
That  stands  in  his  pride  and  majesty 
When  a  hundred  years  have  flown," 

and  upon  an  eminence,  overlooking  the  whole,  stands  the  pal- 
ace of  the  duke,  the  whole  front,  of  twelve  or  thirteen  hun- 
dred feet,  having  a  grand  Italian  flower  garden,  with  its  urns, 
vases,  and  statues  in  full  view  over  the  dwarf  balustrades 
that  protect  it ;  the  beautiful  Grecian  architecture  of  the 
building,  the  statues,  fountains,  forest,  stream,  and  slope,  all 
so  charmingly  combined  by  both  nature  and  art  into  a  lovely 
landscape  picture,  as  to  seem  almost  like  a  scene  from  fairy- 
land. 


A  nobleman's  estate.  103 

But  hero  we  are  at  Edensor,  the  little  village  owned  by  the 
duke,  and  in  which  he  is  finishing  a  new  church  for  his  ten- 
antry, a  very  handsome  edifice,  at  a  cost  of  nearly  fifteen  thou- 
sand pounds.  This  Edensor  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  little 
villages  in  England.  Its  houses  are  all  built  in  Elizabethan, 
Swiss,  and  quaint  styles  of  architecture,  and  looking,  for  all 
the  world,  like  a  clean  little  engraving  from  an  illustrated 
book. 

I  hardly  know  where  to  commence  any  attempt  at  descrip- 
tion of  this  magnificent  estate ;  but  some  idea  may  be  had  of 
its  extent  from  the  fact  that  the  park  is  over  nine  miles  in 
circumference,  that  the  kitchen  gardens  and  green-houses 
cover  twenty  acres,  and  that  there  are  thirty  green-houses, 
from  fifty  to  seventy-five  feet  long;  that,  standing  upon  a 
hill-top,  commanding  a  circuit  view  of  twelve  miles,  I  could 
see  nothing  but  what  this  man  owned,  or  was  his  estate. 
Through  the  great  park,  as  we  walked,  magnificent  pheasants, 
secure  in  their  protection  by  the  game  laws  upon  this  vast 
estate,  hardly  waddled  out  of  our  path.  The  troops  of  deer 
galloped  within  fifty  paces  of  us,  sleek  cattle  grazed  upon  the 
verdant  slope,  and  every  portion  of  the  land  showed  evidence 
of  careful  attention  from  skilful  hands. 

"We  reached  a  bridge  which  spanned  the  little  river,  —  a 
fine,  massive  stone  structure,  built  from  a  design  by  Michael 
Angelo,  —  and  crossing  it,  wound  our  way  up  to  the  grand 
entrance,  with  its  great  gates  of  wrought  and  gilt  iron.  One 
of  those  well-go t-up,  full-fed,  liveried  individuals,  whom  Punch 
denominates  flunkies,  carried  my  card  in,  for  permission  to 
view  the  premises,  which  is  readily  accorded,  the  steward  of 
the  establishment  sending  a  servant  to  act  as  guide. 

Passing  through  a  broad  court-yard,  we  enter  the  grand 
entrance-hall  —  a  noble  room  some  sixty  or  seventy  feet  in 
length,  its  lofty  wall  adorned  with  elegant  frescoes,  repre- 
senting scenes  from  the  life  of  Cassar,  including  his  celebrated 
Passing  of  the  Rubicon,  and  his  Death  at  the  Senate  House, 
&c.  Passing  up  a  superb,  grand  staircase,  rich  with  statues 
of  heathen  deities  and  elegantly-wrought  columns,  we  went 


104  INTEEIOK   OF   TIIE    PALACE. 

on  to  the  state  apartments  of  the  house.  The  ceilings  of 
these  magnificent  rooms  are  adorned  with  splendid  pictures, 
among  which  are  the  Judgment  of  Paris,  Phaeton  in  the 
Chariot  of  the  Sun,  Aurora,  and  other  mythological  subjects, 
while  the  rooms  themselves,  opening  one  out  of  the  other, 
arc  each  rich  in  works  of  vertu  and  art,  and  form  a  vista  of 
beauty  and  wonder.  Recollect,  all  these  rooms  were  differ- 
ent, each  furnished  in  the  most  perfect  taste,  each  rich  in  rare 
and  curious  productions  of  art,  ancient  and  modern,  for 
which  all  countries,  even  Egypt  and  Turkey,  had  been  ran- 
sacked. 

The  presents  of  kings  and  princes,  and  the  purchases  of  the 
richest  dukes  for  three  generations,  contributed  to  adorn  the 
apartments  of  this  superb  palace.  Not  among  the  least  won- 
derful works  of  art  is  some  of  the  splendid  wood-carving  of 
Gibbon  upon  the  walls  —  of  game,  flowers,  and  fruit,  so  ex- 
quisitely executed  that  the  careless  heap  of  grouse,  snipe,  or 
partridges  look  as  though  a  light  breeze  would  stir  their  very 
feathers  —  flowers  that  seem  as  if  they  would  drop  from  the 
walls,  and  a  game-bag  at  which  I  had  to  take  a  close  look  to 
see  if  it  were  really  a  creation  of  the  carver's  art. 

Upon  the  walls  of  all  the  rooms  are  suspended  beautiful 
pictures  by  the  great  artists.  Here,  in  one  room,  we  found 
our  old,  familiar  friend,  Bolton  Abbey  in  the  Olden  Time, 
the  original  painting  by  Landseer,  and  a  magnificent  picture 
it  is.  In  another  room  was  one  of  Holbein's  portraits  of 
Henry  VIII.,  and  we  were  shown  also  the  rosary  of  this  king, 
who  was  married  so  numerously,  an  elegant  and  elaborately- 
carved  piece  of  work.  In  another  apartment  was  a  huge 
table  of  malachite,  —  a  single  magnificent  slab  of  about  eight 
feet  long  by  four  in  width,  —  a  clock  of  gold  and  malachite, 
presented  to  the  duke  by  the  Emperor  Nicholas,  worth  a 
thousand  guineas,  a  broad  table  of  one  single  sheet  of  trans- 
lucent spar. 

In  the  state  bedroom  was  the  bed  in  which  George  II. 
died.  Here  also  were  the  chairs  and  foot-stools  that  were 
used  by  George  III.  and  his  queen  at  their  coronation;  and 


WEALTH    UNBOUNDED.  105 

in  another  room  the  two  chairs  in  which  William  IV.  and 
Queen  Adelaide  sat  when  they  were  crowned,  and  looking  in 
their  elaborate  and  florid  decoration  of  gold  and  color  pre- 
cisely like  the  chairs  placed  upon  the  stage  at  the  theatre  for 
the  mimic  monarchs  of  dramatic  representations.  In  fact,  all 
the  pomp,  costume,  and  paraphernalia  of  royalty,  so  strikingly 
reminds  an  American  of  theatric  display,  that  the  only  differ- 
ence seems  that  the  one  is  shown  by  a  manager,  and  the  other 
by  a  king. 

Then  there  were  numerous  magnificent  cabinets,  ancient 
and  modern,  inlaid  with  elegant  mosaic  work,  and  on  their 
shelves  rested  that  rich,  curious,  and  antique  old  china  of 
every  design,  for  which  the  wealthy  were  wont  to  pay  such 
fabulous  prices.  Some  was  of  exquisite  beauty  and  elegant 
design ;  others,  to  my  unpractised  eye,  would  have  suffered 
in  comparison  with  our  present  kitchen  delf.  Elegant  tapes- 
tries, cabinet  paintings,  beautifully-modelled  furniture,  met 
the  eye  at  every  turn ;  rare  bronze  busts  and  statues  appro- 
priately placed ;  the  floors  one  sheet  of  polished  oak,  so  ex- 
actly were  they  matched ;  and  the  grand  entrance  doors  of 
each  one  of  the  long  range  of  beautiful  rooms  being  placed 
exactly  opposite  the  other,  give  a  vista  of  five  hundred  and 
sixty  feet  in  length. 

Then  there  was  the  great  library,  which  is  a  superb  room 
over  a  hundred  feet  long,  with  great  columns  from  floor  to 
ceiling,  and  a  light  gallery  running  around  it.  Opening  out 
of  it  are  an  ante-library  and  cabinet  library  —  perfect  gems  of 
rooms,  rich  in  medallions,  pictures  by  Landseer,  &c,  and,  of 
course,  each  room  containing  a  wealth  of  literature  on  the 
book-shelves  in  the  Spanish  mahogany  alcoves.  In  fact,  the 
rooms  in  this  edifice  realize  one's  idea  of  a  nobleman's  palace, 
and  the  visitor  sees  that  they  contain  all  that  unbounded 
wealth  can  purchase,  and  taste  and  art  produce.  I  must  not 
forget,  in  one  of  these  apartments,  a  whole  set  of  ex- 
quisite little  filigree,  silver  toys,  made  for  one  cf  the  duke's 
daughters,  embracing  a  complete  outfit  for  a  baby-house, 
and    including   piano,   chairs,   carriage,  <fcc,   all    beautifully 


106  ART,   LUXURY,   TASTE. 

wrought,  elaborate  specimens  of  workmanship,  artistically 
made,  but,  of  course,  useless  for  service. 

In  one  of  the  great  galleries  we  were  shown  a  magnificent 
collection  of  artistic  wealth  in  the  form  of  nearly  a  thousand 
original  drawings  —  first  rough  sketches  of  the  old  masters, 
some  of  their  masterpieces  which  adorn  the  great  galleries  of 
Europe,  and  are  celebrated  all  over  the  world. 

Only  think  of  looking  upon  the  original  designs,  the  rough 
crayon,  pencil,  or  chalk  sketches  made  by  Rubens,  Salvator 
Rosa,  Claude  Lorraine,  Raphael,  Titian,  Correggio,  Michael 
Angelo,  Nicolas  Poussin,  Hogarth,  and  other  great  artists,  of 
some  of  their  most  celebrated  works,  and  these  sketches  bear- 
ing the  autographic  signatures  of  the  painters  !  This  grand 
collection  of  artistic  wealth  is  all  arrayed  and  classified  into 
Flemish,  Venetian,  Spanish,  French,  and  Italian  schools,  &c, 
and  the  value  in  an  artistic  point  of  view  is  almost  as  incon- 
ceivable as  the  interest  to  a  lover  of  art  is  indescribable.  The 
tourist  can  only  feel,  as  he  is  compelled  to  hurry  through  such 
treasures  of  art,  that  the  brief  time  he  has  to  devote  to  them 
is  but  little  better  than  an  aggravation. 

An  elegant  private  chapel,  rich  in  sculpture,  painting,  and 
carving,  affords  opportunity  for  the  master  of  this  magnificent 
estate  to  worship  God  in  a  luxurious  manner.  Scenes  from 
the  life  of  the  Saviour,  from  the  pencils  of  great  artists,  adorn 
the  walls  —  Verrio's  Incredulity  of  Thomas;-  an  altar-piece 
by  Cibber,  made  of  Derbyshire  spar  and  marble,  with  figures 
of  Faith  and  Hope,  and  the  wondrous  wood  carving  of  Gib- 
bon, are  among  the  treasures  of  this  exquisite  temple  to  the 
Most  High. 

Next  we  visit  the  Sculpture  Gallery,  in  which  are  collected 
the  choicest  works  of  art  in  Chatsworth :  the  statues,  busts, 
vases,  and  bronzes  that  we  have  passed  in  niches,  upon  cabi- 
nets, on  great  marble  staircases,  and  at  various  other  points 
in  the  mansion,  would  in  themselves  have  formed  a  wondrous 
collection;  but  here  is  the  Sculpture  Gallery  proper,  a  lofty 
hall  over  one  hundred  feet  in  length,  lighted  from  the  top, 
and  the  light  is  managed  so  as  to  display  to  the  best  advan- 


TIIE    SCULPTUEE    GALLEEY.  107 

tage  the  treasures  of  art  here  collected.  I  can  only  mention 
a  few  of  the  most  striking  which  I  jotted  down  in  my  note- 
book, and  which  will  indicate  the  value  of  the  collection: 
Discobulus,  by  Kessels ;  upon  the  panels  of  the  pedestal,  on 
which  this  statue  is  placed,  are  inlaid  slabs  of  elegant  Swedish 
porphyry,  and  a  fine  mosaic  taken  from'  Herculaneum ;  a 
colossal  marble  bust  of  Bonaparte,  by  Canova;  Gott's  Venus; 
two  colossal  lions  (after  Canova),  cut  in  Carrara  marble,  one 
by  Rinaldi  and  the  other  by  Benaglia  —  they  are  beautifully 
finished,  .and  the  weight  of  the  group  is  eight  tons ;  bust  of 
Edward  Everett,  by  Powers ;  the  Venus  Genetrix  of  Thor- 
waldsen ;  five  elegantly  finished  small  columns  from  Constan- 
tinople, surmounted  by  Corinthian  capitals  cut  in  Home,  and 
crowned  with  vases  and  balls,  all  of  beautiful  workmanship ; 
a  statue  of  Hebe,  by  Canova ;  a  colossal  group  of'  Mars  and 
Cupid,  by  Gibson ;  Cupid  enclosing  in  his  hands  the  butter- 
fly ;  an  image  of  Psyche,  the  Grecian  emblem  of  the  soul,  an 
exquisite  piece  of  sculpture,  by  Finelli;  a  bass-relief  of  three 
sleeping  Cupids,  also  most  life-like  in  execution;  Tadolini's 
Ganymede  and  Eagle;  Bartolini's  Bacchante  with  Tamborine; 
a  superb  vase  and  pedestal,  presented  by  the  Emperor  of 
Russia ;  Venus  wounded  by  treading  on  a  rose,  and  Cupid 
extracting  the  thorn ;  Endymion  sleeping  with  his  dog  watch- 
ing, by  Canova :  Achilles  wounded ;  Venus  Filatrice,  as  it  is 
calle/1,  a  beautiful  spinning  girl,  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
works  in  the  gallery  —  the  pedestal  on  which  this  figure 
stands  is  a  fragment  from  Trajan's  Forum;  Petrarch's  Laura, 
by  Canova,  &c.  From  the  few  that  I  have  mentioned,  the 
wealth  of  this  collection  may  be  imagined.  In  the  centre  of 
the  room  stands  the  gigantic  Mecklenburg  Vase,  twenty  feet 
in  circumference,  sculptured  out  of  a  single  block  of  granite, 
resting  on  a  pedestal  of  the  same  material,  and  inside  the  vase 
a  serpent  coiled  in  form  of  a  figure  eight,  wrought  from  black 
marble. 

I  have  given  but  a  mere  glance  at  the  inside  of  this  elegant 
palace :  in  passing  through  the  different  grand  apartments,  the 
visitor,  if  he  will  stej)  from  time  to  time  into  the  deep  win* 


108  LANDSCAPE   EFFECTS. 

dows  and  look  upon  the  scene  without,  will  see  how  art  has 
managed  that  the  very  landscape  views  shall  have  additional 
charm  and  beauty  to  the  eye.  One  window  commands  a 
close-shaven  green  lawn  over  a  hundred  feet  wide  and  five 
hundred  long,  as  regular  and  clean  as  a  sheet  of  green  velvet, 
its  extreme  edge  rich  in  a  border  of  many-colored  flowers ; 
another  shows  a  slope  crossed  with  walks,  and  enlivened 
Avith  vases  and  sparkling  fountains ;  another,  the  natural  land- 
scape, with  river  and  bridge,  and  the  background  of  noble 
oak  trees :  a  fourth  shows  a  series  of  terraces  risimx  one  above 
the  other  for  hundreds  of  feet,  rich  in  flowering  shrubs  and 
plants,  and  descending  the  centre  from  the  very  summit,  a 
great  flight  of  stone  steps,  thirty  feet  in  width,  down  which 
dashes  a  broad,  thin  sheet  of  water  like  a  great  web  of  silver 
in  the  sunshine,  reflecting  the  marble  statues  at  its  margin, 
till  it  reaches  the  very  verge  of  the  broad  gravel  walk  of  the 
pleasure-grounds,  as  if  to  dash  in  torrents  over  it,  when  it 
disappears,  as  by  magic,  into  the  very  earth,  being  conveyed 
away  by  a  subterranean  passage  to  the  river. 

After  walking  about  the  enclosed  gardens  immediately 
around  the  palace,  which  are  laid  out  in  Italian  style,  with 
vases,  statues,  and  fountains,  reminding  one  strikingly  of  views 
upon  theatrical  act-drops  on  an  extended  scale,  we  came  to 
several  acres  of  ground,  which  appeared  to  have  been  left  in 
a  natural  state ;  huge  crags,  abrupt  cliffs  with  dripping  water- 
fall falling  over  the  edge  into  a  silent,  black  tarn  at  its  base, 
curious  caverns,  huge  boulders  thrown  together  as  by  some 
convulsion,  and  odd  plants  growing  among  them. 

In  and  about  romantic  views,  our  winding  path  carried  us 
until  we  were  stopped  by  a  huge  boulder  of  rock  that  had 
tumbled  down,  apparently  from  a  neighboring  crag,  directly 
upon  the  pathway.  We  were  about  to  turn  back  to  make  a 
detour,  as  clambering  over  the  obstacle  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, when  our  guide  solved  the  difficulty  by  pressing  against 
the  intruding  mass  of  rock,  which,  to  our  surprise,  yielding, 
swung  to  one  side,  leaving  passage  for  us  to  pass.  It  was 
artificially  poised  upon  a  pivot  for  this  purpose.     Then  it  was 


A    GRAND    CONSERVATORY.  109 

that  we  learned  that  the  whole  of  this  apparently  natural 
scenery  was  in  reality  the  work  of  art ;  the  rocky  crags,  water- 
fall and  tarn,  romantic  and  tangled  shrubbery,  rustic  nooks, 
odd  caverns,  and  mossy  cliffs,  nay,  even  old  uprooted  tree, 
and  the  one  that,  with  dead  foliage,  stripped  limbs,  that  stood 
out  in  bold  relief  against  the  sky,  were  all  artistically  placed, 
—  in  fact  the  whole  built  and  arranged  for  effect;  and  on 
knowing  this,  it  seemed  to  be  a  series  of  natural  models  set 
for  landscape  painters  to  get  bits  of  effect  from. 

Among  tjhe  curiosities  in  this  natural  artificial  region  was 
a  wonderful  tree,  a  sort  of  stiff-looking  willow,  but  which  our 
conductor  changed  by  touching  a  secret  spring  into  a  veritable 
weeping  willow,  for  fine  streams  of  water  started  from  every 
leaf,  twig,  and  shoot  of  its  copper  branches  —  a  most  novel 
and  curious  style  of  fountain. 

But  we  must  pass  on  to  the  great  conservatory,  another 
surprise  in  this  realm  of  wonders.  Only  think  of  a  conserva- 
tory covering  more  than  an  acre  of  ground,  with  an  arched 
roof  of  glass  seventy  feet  high,  and  a  great  drive-way  large 
enough  for  a  carriage  and  four  horses  to  be  driven  right 
through  from  one  end  to  the  other,  a  distance  of  two  hundred 
and  seventy-six  feet,  as  Queen  Victoria's  was,  on  her  visit  to 
the  estate. 

Before  the  erection  of  the  Crystal  Palace  at  Sydenham, 
this  conservatory  was  the  most  magnificent  building  of  the 
kind  in  England,  and  was  designed  and  built  by  Paxton,  the 
duke's  gardener,  afterwards  the  architect  of  the  Crystal  Palace. 
Here  one  might  well  fancy  himself,  from  the  surroundings, 
transferred  by  Fortunatus's  wishing  cap  into  the  tropics. 
Great  palm  trees  lifted  their  broad,  leafy  crowns  fifty  feet  , 
above  our  heads ;  slender  bamboos  rose  like  stacks  of  lances  ; 
immense  cactuses,  ten  feet  high,  bristled  like  fragments  of  a 
warrior's  armor ;  the  air  was  fragrant  with  the  smell  of  orange 
trees ;  big  lemons  plumped  down  on  the  rank  turf  from  the 
dark,  glossy  foliage  of  the  trees  that  bore  them;  opening 
ovoids  displayed  stringy  mace  holding  aromatic  nutmegs ; 
wondrous  vegetation,  like  crooked  serpents,  wound  off  on  the 


110  WONDEES    OF    THE    TEOPICS. 

damp  soil ;  great  pitcher-plants,  huge  broad  leaves  of  curious 
colors,  looking  as  if  cut  from  different  varieties  of  velvet,  and 
other  fantastic  wonders  of  the  tropics,  greeted  us  at  every 
turn.  Here  was  the  curious  sago  palm;  there  rose  with  its 
clusters  of  fruit  the  date  palm ;  again,  great  clusters  of  rich 
bananas  drooped  pendent  from  their  support ;  singular  shrubs, 
curious  grasses,  wonderful  leaves  huge  in  size  and  singular  in 
shape,  and  wondrous  trees  as  large  as  life,  rose  on  every  side, 
so  that  one  might  readily  imagine  himself  in  an  East  Indian 
jungle  or  a  Brazilian  forest, — 

"  And  every  air  was  heavy  with  the  sighs 
Of  orange  groves,"  — 

or  the  strong,  spicy  perfume  of  strange  trees  and  plants  un- 
known in  this  cold  climate. 

Over  seventy  thousand  square  feet  of  glass  are  between 
the  iron  ribs  of  the  great  roof  of  this  conservatory,  and  within 
its  ample  space  the  soil  and  temperature  are  carefully  ar- 
ranged to  suit  the  nature  and  characters  of  the  different 
plants  it  contains,  while  neither  expense  nor  pains  are  spared 
to  obtain  and  cultivate  these  vegetable  curiosities  in  their 
native  luxuriance  and  beauty. 

I  will  not  attempt  a  particular  description  of  the  other 
green-houses.  There  are  thirty  in  all,  and  each  devoted  to 
different  kinds  of  fruits  or  flowers  —  a  study  for  the  horticul- 
turist or  botanist.  One  was  devoted  entirely  to  medicinal 
plants,  another  to  rare  and  curious  flowering  plants,  gay  in 
all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow,  and  rich  with  perfume ;  a  Victoria 
Regia  house,  just  completed,  of  octagon  form,  and  erected 
expressly  for  the  growth  of  this  curious  product  of  South 
American  waters ;  magnificent  graperies,  four  or  five  in  all, 
and  seven  hundred  feet  long,  with  the  green,  white,  and  purple 
clusters  depending  in  every  direction  and  in  various  stages 
of  growth,  from  blossom  to  perfection;  pineries  containing 
whole  regiments  of  the  fruit,  ranged  in  regular  ranks,  with 
their  martial  blades  erect  above  their  green  and  yellow  coats 
of  mail.     Peach-houses,  with  the  pink  blossoms  just  bursting 


n ADDON   HALL.  Ill 

into  beauty,  were  succeeded  by  the.  fruit,  first  like  vegetable 
grape-shot,  and  further  on  in  great,  luscious,  velvet-coated 
spheroids  at  maturity,  as  it  drops  from  the  branches  into 
netting  spread  to  catch  it. 

In  the  peach-houses  is  one  tree,  fifteen  feet  high,  and  its 
branches  extending  on  the  walls  a  distance  of  over  fifty  feet, 
producing,  some  years,  over  a  thousand  peaches.  Then  there 
are  strawberry-houses,  apricot,  vegetable,  and  even  a  house  for 
mushrooms,  besides  the  extensive  kitchen  gardens,  in  which 
every  variety  of  ordinary  vegetable  is  grown ;  all  of  these 
nurseries,  gardens,  hot-houses,  and  conservatories  are  well 
cared  for,  and  kept  in  excellent  order. 

The  great  conservatory  is  said  to  have  cost  one  hundred 
thousand  pounds ;  it  is  heated  by  steam  and  hot  water,  and 
there  are  over  six  miles  of  piping  in  the  building.  The 
duke's  table,  whether  he  be  here  or  at  London,  is  supplied 
daily  with  rare  fruits  and  the  other  products  of  these  hot- 
beds of  luxury. 

But  the  reader  will  tire  of  reading,  as  does  the  visitor  of 
viewing,  the  endless  evidences  of  the  apparently  boundless 
wealth  that  almost  staggers  the  conception  of  the  American 
tourist  fresh  from  home,  with  his  ideas  of  what  constitutes 
wealth  and  power  in  a  republican  country. 

After  having  visited,  as  we  have,  one  of  the  most  magnifi- 
cent modern  palaces  of  one  of  the  most  princely  of  modern 
England's  noblemen,  it  was  a  pleasant  transition  to  ride  over 
to  one  of  the  most  perfect  remnants  of  the  habitations  of  her 
feudal  nobility,  Haddon  Hall,  situated  in  Derbyshire,  a  few 
miles  from  Chatswortb. 

This  fine  old  castellated  building  is  one  from  which  can  be 
formed  a  correct  idea  of  those  old  strongholds  of  the  feudal 
lords  of  the  middle  ages ;  indeed,  it  is  a  remnant  of  one  of 
those  very  strongholds,  a  crumbling  picture  of  the  past,  rich 
in  its  fine  old  coloring  of  chivalry  and  romance,  conjuring  up 
many  poetic  fancies,  and  putting  to  flight  others,  by  the  prac- 
tical realities  that  it  presents  in  the  shape  of  what  would  be 
now  positive  discomfort  in  our  domestic  life,  but  which,  in 
those  rude  days,  was  magnificence. 


112  "ye  olden  time." 

Haddon  Hall  is  in  fact  a  very  fine  example  of  an  old  ba- 
ronial hall  in  ye  times  of  old,  and  portions  of  the  interior  ap- 
pear as  though  it  had  been  preserved  in  the  exact  condition 
it  was  left  by  its  knightly  occupants  three  hundred  years 
ago. 

The  embattled  turrets  of  Haddon,  rising  above  the  trees,  as 
it  stood  on  its  rocky  platform,  overlooking  the  little  River 
Wye  and  the  surrounding  country,  seemed  only  to  be  wanting 
the  knightly  banner  fluttering  above  them,  and  we  almost  ex- 
pected to  see  the  flash  of  a  spear-head  in  the  sunlight,  or  the 
glitter  of  a  steel  helmet  from  the  ancient  but  well-preserved 
walls.  We  climbed  up  the  steep  ascent  to  the  great  arched 
entrance,  surmounted  with  the  arms,  in  rude  sculpture,  of  the 
Vernon  family,  who  held  the  property  for  three  centuries 
and  a  half;  and  beneath  that  arch,  where  warlike  helmets, 
haughty  brows,  and  beauteous  ladies,  the  noblest  and  bravest 
blood  of  England  have  passed,  passed  we. 

No  warder's  horn  summons  the  man-at-arms  to  the  battle- 
ments above;  no  drawbridge  falls,  with  ringing  clang,  over 
the  castle  moat,  or  pointed  portcullis  slowly  raises  its  iron 
fangs  to  admit  us ;  but  for  hundreds  of  years  have  hundreds 
of  feet  pressed  that  threshold  of  stone  —  the  feet  of  those  of 
our  own  time,  and  of  those  who  slumbered  in  the  dust  hun- 
dreds of  years  ere  we  trod  the  earth ;  and  we  mark,  as  we 
pass  through  the  little  door,  cut  through  one  of  the  broad 
leaves  of  the  great  gates,  that  in  the  stony  threshold  is  the 
deep  impression  of  a  human  foot,  worn  by  the  innumerable 
stoppings  that  have  been  made  upon  the  same  spot  by  mailed 
heels,  ladies'  slippers,  pilgrims'  sandals,  troopers'  boots,  or  the 
leather  and  steel-clad  feet  of  our  own  time.  Passed  the  portal, 
and  we  were  in  the  grand,  open  court-yard,  with  its  quaint 
ornaments  of  stone  carving,  its  stone  pavement,  and  entrances 
to  various  parts  of  the  building. 

There  is  a  picture,  entitled  "  Coming  of  Age  in  the  Olden 
Time,"  which  is  familiar  to  many  of  my  readers,  and  which  is 
still  common  in  many  of  our  print-stores ;  an  engraving  issued 
by  one   of  the   Scotch  Art  Unions,  I  believe,  which   was 


THE    OLD   BARONIAL    HALL.  113 

brought  forcibly  to  ray  mind,  as  I  stood  in  this  old  court- 
yard of  I  [addon  Hall,  there  were  so  many  general  features 
that  were  similar,  and  it  required  no  great  stretch  of  the  im- 
agination for  me  to  place  the  young  nobleman  upon  the  very 
flight  of  steps  he  occupies  in  the  picture,  and  to  group  the 
other  figures  in  the  parts  of  the  space  before  me,  which 
seemed  the  very  one  they  had  formerly  occupied ;  but  my 
dreams  and  imaginings  were  interrupted  by  a  request  to  come 
and  see  what  remained  of  the  realities  of  the  place. 

First,  there  was  the  great  kitchen,  all  of  stone,  its  fireplace 
big  enough  to  roast  an  ox ;  a  huge  rude  table  or  dresser ;  the 
great  trough,  or  sink,  into  which  fresh  water  was  conducted  : 
and  an  adjoining  room,  with  its  huge  chopping-block  still  re- 
maining, was  evidently  the  larder,  and  doubtless  many  a  rich 
haunch  of  venison,  or  juicy  baron  of  beef,  has  been  trimmed 
into  shape  here.  Another  great  vaulted  room,  doAvn  a  flight 
of  steps,  was  the  beer  cellar ;  and  a  good  supply  of  stout  ale 
was  kept  there,  as  is  evinced  by  the  low  platform  of  stone- 
work all  around,  and  the  stone  drain  to  cany  off  the  drippings. 
Then  there  is  the  bake-house,  with  its  moulding-stone  and 
ovens,  the  store-rooms  for  corn,  malt,  &c,  all  indicating  that 
the  men  of  ye  olden  times  liked  good,  generous  living. 

The  Great  Hall,  as  it  is  called,  where  the  lord  of  the 
castle  feasted  with  his  guests,  still  remains,  with  its  rough 
roof  and  rafters  of  oak,  its  minstrel  gallery,  ornamented  with 
stags'  antlers  ;  and  there,  raised  above  the  stone  floor  a  foot 
or  so,  yet  remains  the  dais,  upon  which  rested  the  table  at 
which  sat  the  nobler  guests ;  and  here  is  the  very  table  itself, 
three  long,  blackened  oak  planks,  supjjorted  by  rude  X  legs  — 
the  table  that  has  borne  the  boars'  heads,  the  barons  of  beef, 
gilded  peacocks,  haunches  of  venison,  flagons  of  ale,  and 
stoups  of  wine.  Let  us  stand  at  its  head,  and  look  down  the 
old  baronial  hall :  it  was  once  noisy  with  mirth  and  revelry, 
music  and  song:  the  fires  from  the  huge  fireplaces  flashed 
on  armor  and  weapons,  faces  and  forms  that  have  all  long 
since  crumbled  into  dust ;  and  here  is  only  left  a  cheerless, 
bam-like  old  room,  thirty-five  feet  long  and  twenty-five  wide, 
8 


114  OLD   ENGLAND. 

with  time-blackened  rafters,  and  a  retainers'  room,  or  servants' 
hall,  looking  into  it. 

Up  a  massive  staircase  of  huge  blocks  of  stone,  and  we 
are  in  another  apartment,  a  room  called  the  dining-room, 
used  for  that  purpose  by  more  modem  occupants  of  the  Hall; 
and  here  we  find  portraits  of  Henry  VII.  and  his  queen,  and 
also  of  the  king's  jester,  Will  Somers.  Over  the  fireplace 
are  the  royal  arms,  and  beneath  them,  in  Old  English  charac- 
ter, the  motto,  — 

©rctie  ©oti,  anti  honor  the  3&mt{. 

Up  stairs,  six  semicircular  steps  of  solid  oak,  and  we  are  in 
the  long  gallery,  or  ball-room,  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  long 
and  eighteen  wide,  with  immense  bay-windows,  commanding 
beautiful  views,  the  sides  of  the  room  wainscoted  in  oak,  and 
decorated  with  carvings  of  the  boar's  head  and  peacock,  the 
crests  of  the  Vernon  and  Manners  families ;  carvings  of  roses 
and  thistles  also  adorn  the  walls  of  this  apartment,  which  was 
said  to  have  been  built  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  and  there 
is  a  curious  story  told  of  the  oaken  floor,  which  is,  that  the 
boards  were  all  cut  from  one  tree  that  grew  in  the  garden, 
and  that  the  roots  furnished  the  great  semicircular  steps  that 
lead  up  to  the  room.  The  compartments  of  the  bay-windows 
are  adorned  with  armorial  bearings  of  different  owners  of  the 
place,  and  from  them  are  obtained  some  of  those  ravishing 
landscape  views  for  which  England  is  so  famous — silvery 
stream,  spanned  by  rustic  bridges,  as  it  meandered  off  to- 
wards green  meadows  ;  the  old  park,  with  splendid  group  of 
oaks ;  the  distant  village,  with  its  ancient  church ;  and  all 
those  picturesque  objects  that  contribute  to  make  the  picture 
perfect. 

We  now  wend  our  way  through  other  rooms,  with  the  old 
Gobelin  tapestry  upon  the  walls,  with  the  pictured  story  of 
Moses  still  distinct  upon  its  wondrous  folds,  and  into  rooms 
comparatively  modem,  that  have  been  restored,  kept,  and 
used  within  the  past  century.  Here  is  one  with  furniture  of 
green  and  damask,  chairs  and  state  bed,  and  hung  with  Gobe- 


A   FAMILIAR    SCENE.  115 

lin  tapestry,  with  Esop's  fables  wrought  upon  it.  Here,  again, 
the  rude  carving,  massive  oak-work,  and  ill-constructed  join- 
ing, tell  of  the  olden  time. 

But  we  must  not  leave  Haddon  Hall  without  passing 
through  the  ante-room,  as  it  is  called,  and  out  into  the  garden 
on  Dorothy  Vernon's  Walk.  On  our  way  thither  the  guide  lifts 
up  occasionally  the  arras,  or  tapestry,  and  shows  us  those  con- 
cealed doors  and  passages  of  which  we  have  read  so  often  in 
the  books ;  and  now  that  I  think  of  it,  it  was  here  at  Haddon 
Hall  that  many  of  the  wild  and  romantic  ideas  were  obtained 
by  Mrs.  Radcliff  for  that  celebrated  old-fashioned  romance, 
"  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho." 

The  "garden  of  Haddon,"  writes  S.  C.  Hall,  "has  been, 
time  out  of  mind,  a  treasure  store  of  the  English  landscape 
painter,  and  one  of  the  most  favorite  '  bits '  being  '  Dorothy 
Vernon's  Walk,'  and  the  door  out  of  which  tradition  describes 
her  as  escaping  to  meet  her  lover,  Sir  John  Manners,  with 
whom  she  eloped."  Haddon,  by  this  marriage,  became  the 
property  of  the  noble  house  of  Rutland,  who  made  it  their 
residence  till  the  commencement  of  the  present  century,  when 
they  removed  to  the  more  splendid  castle  of  Belvoir ;  but  to 
the  Duke  of  Rutland  the  tourist  and  those  who  venerate 
antiquity,  owe  much  for  keeping  this  fine  old  place  from 
"  improvements,"  and  so  much  of  it  in  its  original  and  ancient 
form. 

That  the  landscape  painters  had  made  good  and  frequent 
use  of  the  garden  of  Haddon  I  ascertained  the  moment  I 
entered  it.  Dorothy's  Walk,  a  fine  terrace,  shaded  by  limes 
and  sycamores,  leads  to  picturesque  flights  of  marble  steps, 
which  I  recognized  as  old  friends  that  had  figured  in  many  a 
"flat"  of  theatrical  scenery,  upon  many  an  act-drop,  or  been 
still  more  skilfully  borrowed  from,  in  effect,  by  the  stage-car- 
penter and  machinist  in  a  set  scene.  Plucking  a  little  bunch 
of  wild-flowers  from  Dorothy's  Walk,  and  a  sprig  of  ivy 
from  the  steps  down  which  she  hurried  in  the  darkness, 
while  her  friends  were  revelling  in  another  part  of  the  hall, 


116  KENILWORTH. 

we  bade  farewell  to  old   Haddon,  with  its  quaint  halls,  its 
court-yards,  and  its  terraced  garden,  amid  whose  venerable 

trees 

"the  air 
Seems  hallowed  by  the  breath  of  other  times." 


CHAPTER    V. 

Kentlworth  Castle  will  in  many  respects  disappoint 
the  visitor,  for  its  chief  attraction  is  the  interest  with  which 
Walter  Scott  has  invested  it  in  his  vivid  description  of  the 
Earl  of  Leicester's  magnificent  pageant  on  the  occasion  of  the 
reception  of  his  royal  mistress,  Queen  Elizabeth.  And  the 
host  of  visitors  who  make  the  pilgrimage  to  this  place,  so 
hallowed  by  historical  associations,  may  be  classed  as  pilgrims 
doing  homage  to  the  genius  of  Scott.  I  find,  on  looking  up 
Kenilworth's  history,  that  it  was  here  that  "old  John  of  Gaunt, 
time-honored  Lancaster,"  dwelt;  here  also  his  son  Boling- 
broke,  afterwards  Henry  IV.,  and  Prince  Hal,  when  he  was 
a  jovial,  roistering  sack-drinker;  here  Henry  VI.  retired 
during  the  Jack  Cade  rebellion  ;  Richard  III.  has  held  high 
revel  in  the  great  hall;  Henry  VII.  and  bluff  Hal  VIII. 
have  "feasted  there  with  their  nobles;  but,  after  all,  the 
visitor  goes  to  see  the  scene  where,  on  the  9th  of  July,  1575, 
was  such  a  magnificent  fete  as  that  described  by  the  novelist. 

We  walked  through  the  village  and  on  towards  the  castle, 
through  the  charming  English  scenery  I  have  described  so 
often,  the  gardens  gay  with  roses  and  the  banks  of  the  road- 
side rich  with  wild  flowers,  a  fair  blue  sky  above,  and  the 
birds  joyous  in  the  hedges  and  woods.  This  was  the  avenue 
that  led  towards  the  Gallery  Tower,  through  which  rode 
Elizabeth  with  a  cavalcade  illuminated  by  two  hundred  wax 
torches  of  Dudley's  retainers,  the  blaze  of  which  flashed  upon 
her  sparkling  jewels  as  she  rode  in  stately  style  upon  her 


SCENES    FROM    SCOTT'S    NOVEL.  117 

milk-white  charger  —  the  avenue  now  a  little  rustic  road, 
with  a  wealth  of  daisies  on  its  banks ;  proudly  rode  Leices- 
ter at  her  side,  who,  Scott  says, "  glittered,  like  a  golden  image, 
with  jewels  and  cloth  of  gold." 

On  we  qo  to  where  the  loner  bridcre  extended  from  the  Gal- 
lery  Tower  to  Mortimer's  Tower,  which  the  story  tells  us 
was  light  as  day  with  the  torches.  A  mass  of  crumbling 
ruins  is  all  that  remains  of  the  two  towers  now ;  and  after 
passing  by  the  end  of  a  great  open  sj^ace,  known  as  the  Tilt 
Yard,  we  come  in  sight  of  the  principal  ruins  of  the  castle. 
We  go  through  a  little  gateway,  —  Leicester's  gateway;  R. 
D.  is  carved  on  the  porch  above  it,  —  and  we  are  in  the  midst 
of  the  picturesque  and  crumbling  walls,  half  shrouded  in  their 
green,  graceful  mantle  of  ivy.  Here  we  find  Caesar's  Tower, 
the  Great  Hall,  Leicester's  Buildings,  the  Strong  Tower, 
which  is  the  Mervyu's  Tower  of  the  story,  the  one  into  which 
the  unfortunate  Amy  Robsart  was  conveyed  while  waiting  for 
a  visit  from  Leicester  during  the  festivities  of  the  royal  visit. 

The  Great  Hall  was  a  room  of  magnificent  dimensions, 
nearly  one  hundred  feet  long  by  fifty  broad,  and,  as  one  may 
judge  from  its  ruins,  beautiful  in  design.  One  oriel  of  the 
many  arched  windows  is  a  beautiful  bit  of  picturesque  ruin, 
and  through  it  a  most  superb  landscape  view  is  commanded. 
You  are  shown  "  The  Pleasance,"  the  place  in  the  little  garden 
near  the  castle  which  was  the  scene  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 
encounter  with  Amy  Robsart,  and  which  still  is  called  by  the 
same  name.  The  part  of  the  castle  built  by  the  Earl  of 
Leicester  in  1571,  known  as  Leicester's  Buildings,  are  crum- 
bling to  decay,  and  is  far  less  durable  than  some  of  the  other 
massive  towers. 

The  outer  walls  of  Kenilworth  Castle  encompassed  an  area 
of  seven  acres ;  but  walls  and  tower,  great  hall  and  oriel,  are 
now  but  masses  of  ruined  masonry,  half  shrouded  in  a  screen 
of  ivy,  and  giving  but  a  feeble  idea  of  what  the  castle  was 
in  its  days  of  pride,  when  graced  by  Queen  Elizabeth  and 
her  court,  and  made  such  a  scene  of  splendor  and  regal  mag- 
nificence as  to  excite  even  the  admiration  of  the  sovereign 


118  STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 

herself.  Time  has  marked  the  proud  castle  with  its  ineffable 
signet,  and  notwithstanding  the  aid  of  imagination,  Kenil- 
worth  seems  but  a  mere  ghost  of  the  past. 

From  Kenilworth  Castle  we  took  train  for  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  —  the  place  which  no  American  would  think  of  leav- 
ing England  without  visiting,  —  a  quiet  little  English  town, 
but  whose  inns  have  yearly  visitors  from  half  the  nations  of 
the  civilized  world,  pilgrims  to  this  shrine  of  genius,  the  birth- 
place of  him  who  wrote  "  not  for  a  day,  but  all  time."  A  quainl , 
old-fashioned  place  is  Stratford,  with  here  and  there  a  house 
that  might  have  been  in  existence  during  the  poet's  time; 
indeed,  many  were,  for  I  halted  opposite  the  grammar  school, 
which  was  founded  by  Henry  IV.,  and  in  which  Will 
Shakespeare  studied  and  was  birched ;  the  boys  were  out  to 
play  in  the  little  square  close,  or  court  yard,  and  as  I  entered 
through  the  squat,  low  doorway,  which,  like  many  of  these 
old  buildings  in  England,  seems  compressed  or  shrunk  with 
age,  I  was  surrounded  by  the  whole  troup  of  successors  of 
Shakespeare,  the  gates  closed,  and  my  deliverance  only  pur- 
chased by  payment  of  six-pence. 

That  antique  relic  of  the  past,  the  poet's  birthplace,  which 
we  at  once  recognize  from  the  numerous  pictures  we  have 
seen  of  it,  I  stood  before  with  a  feeling  akin  to  that  of  ven- 
eration —  something  like  that  which  must  fill  the  mind  of  a 
pilgrim  who  has  travelled  a  weary  journey  to  visit  the  shrine 
of  some  celebrated  saint. 

It  is  an  odd,  and  old-fashioned  mass  of  wood  and  plaster. 
The  very  means  that  have  been  taken  to  preserve  it  seem 
almost  a  sacrilege,  the  fresh  paint  upon  the  wood-work  out- 
side, that  shone  in  the  spring  sunlight,  the  new  braces,  plas- 
ter and  repairs  here  and  there,  give  the  old  building  the  air 
of  an  old  man,  an  octogenarian,  say,  who  had  discarded  his 
old-time  rags  and  tatters  for  a  suit  of  new  cloth  cut  in  old 
style;  but  something  must,  of  course,  be  done  to  preserve  the 
structure  from  crumbling  into  the  dust  beneath  the  inexo- 
rable hand  of  time,  albeit  it  was  of  substantial  oak,  filled  in 
with  plaster,  but  has  undergone  many  "  improvements  "  since 
the  poet's  time. 


AUTOGRAPHIC    MEMORIALS.  119 

The  first  room  we  visit  in  the  house  is  the  kitchen  with  its 
wide  chimney,  the  kitchen  in  which  John  Shakespeare  and 
his  son  Will  so  often  sat,  where  he  watched  the  blazing  logs, 
and  listened  to  strange  legends  of  village  gossips,  or  stories 
of  old  crones,  or  narratives  of  field  and  flood,  and  fed  his 
young  imagination  to  the  full  with  that  food  which  gave  such 
lusty  fife  to  it  in  after  years.  Here  was  a  big  arm-chair  — 
Shakespeare's  chair,  of  course,  as  there  was  in  1820,  when  our 
countryman  Washington  Irving  visited  the  place ;  but  inasmuch 
as  the  real  chair  was  purchased  by  the  Princess  Czartoryska 
in  1790,  one  cannot  with  a  knowledge  of  this  fact  feel  very 
enthusiastic  over  this. 

From  the  kitchen  we  ascend  into  the  room  in  which  the 
poet  was  born  —  a  low,  rude  apartment,  with  huge  beams  and 
plastered  walls,  and  those  walls  one  mosaic  mass  of  pencilled 
autographs  and  inscriptions  of  visitors  to  this  shrine  of  genius. 
One  might  spend  hours  in  deciphering  names,  inscriptions, 
rhymes,  aphorisms,  &c,  that  are  thickly  written  upon  every 
square  inch  of  space,  in  every  style  of  chirography  and  in 
every  language :  even  the  panes  of  glass  in  the  windows  have 
not  escaped,  but  are  scratched  all  over  with  autographs  by 
the  diamond  rings  of  visitors ;  and  among  these  signatures  I 
saw  that  of  Walter  Scott.  At  the  side  of  the  fireplace  in 
this  room  is  the  well-known  actor's  pillar,  a  jamb  of  the  fire- 
place thickly  covered  with  the  autographs  of  actors  who  have 
visited  here;  among  the  names  I  noticed  the  signatures  of 
Charles  Kean,  Edmund  Kean,  and  G.  V.  Brooke.  Visitors 
are  not  permitted  now  to  write  upon  any  portion  of  the  build- 
ing, and  are  always  closely  accompanied  by  a  guide,  in  order 
that  no  portion  of  it  may  be  cut  and  earned  away  by  relic- 
hunters. 

The  visitors'  book  which  is  kept  here  is  a  literary  as  well 
as  an  autographic  curiosity ;  it  was  a  matter  of  regret  to  me 
that  I  had  only  time  to  run  over  a  few  of  the  pages  of  its 
different  volumes  filled  with  the  writing  of  all  classes,  from 
prince  to  peasant,  and  in  every  language  and  character,  even 
those  of  Turkish,  Hebrew,  and  Chinese.  The  following,  I 
think,  was  from  the  pen  of  Prince  Lucien :  — 


120  SHAKESPEARIAN   RELICS. 

"  The  eye  of  genius  glistens  to  admire 
How  memory  hails  the  soul  of  Shakespeare's  lyre. 
One  tear  I'll  shed  to  form  a  crystal  shrine 
For  all  that's  grand,  immortal,  and  divine." 

And  the  following  were  furnished  me  as  productions,  the  first 
of  Washington  Irving,  and  the  second  of  Hackett,  the  well- 
known  comedian,  and  best  living  representative  of  Falstaff: — 

"  Of  mighty  Shakespeare's  birth  the  room  we  see ; 
The  where  he  died  in  vain  to  find  we  try ; 
Useless  the  search,  for  all  immortal  he, 
And  those  who  are  immortal  never  die." 

"  Shakespeare,  thy  name  revered  is  no  less 
By  us  who  often  reckon,  sometimes  guess. 
Though  England  claims  the  glory  of  thy  birth, 
None  more  appreciate  thy  page's  worth, 
None  more  admire  thy  scenes  well  acted  o'er, 
Than  we  of  states  unborn  in  ancient  lore." 

The  room  in  which  the  poet  was  born  remains  very  nearly 
in  its  original  state,  and,  save  a  table,  an  ancient  chair  or  two, 
and  a  bust  of  Shakespeare,  is  without  furniture ;  but  another 
Tapper  room  is  devoted  to  the  exhibition  of  a  variety  of  inter- 
esting relics  and  mementos.  Not  the  least  interesting  of 
these  was  the  rude  school  desk,  at  which  Master  Will  conned 
his  lessons  at  the  grammar  school.  A  sadly-battered  affair  it 
was,  with  the  little  lid  in  the  middle  raised  by  rude  leather 
hinges,  and  the  whole  of  it  hacked  and  cut  in  true  school-boy 
style.  Be  it  Shakespeare's  desk  or  not,  we  were  happy  in  the 
belief  that  it  was,  and  sat  down  at  it,  thinking  of  the  time 
when  the  young  varlet  crept  "like  a  snail  unwillingly  to 
school,"  and  longed  for  a  release  from  its  imprisonment,  to 
bathe  in  the  cool  Avon's  rippling  waters,  or  start  off  on  a  dis- 
tant ramble  with  his  schoolmates  to  Sir  Thomas  Lucy's  oak 
groves  and  green  meadows. 

Next  we  came  to  the  old  sign  of  "  The  Falcon,"  which 
swung  over  the  hostelrie  of  that  name  at  Bedford,  seven 
miles  from  Stratford,  where  Shakespeare  and  his  associates 
drank  too  deeply,  as  the  story  goes,  which  Washington  Irving 


INTERESTING   MEMENTOES.  121 

rcpioclnces  in  his  charming  sketch  of  Stratford-on-Avon  in 
the  Sketch  Book.  Here  is  Shakespeare's  jug,  from  which 
David  Garrick  sipped  wine  at  the  Shakespeare  Jubilee,  held 
in  1758 ;  an  ancient  chair  from  the  Falcon  Inn,  called  Shake- 
speare's Chair,  and  said  to  have  been  the  one  in  which  he  sat 
when  he  held  his  club  meetings  there ;  Shakespeare's  gold 
gnet-ring,  with  the  initials  W.  S.,  enclosed  in  a  true-lover's 


SI 


^iiviriiiij,, 


knot.  Anions:  the  interesting  documents  were  a  letter  from 
Richard  Quyney  to  Shakespeare,  asking  for  a  loan  of  thirty 
pounds,  which  is  said  to  be  the  only  letter  addressed  to  Shake- 
speare known  to  exist;  a  " conveyance,"  dated  October  15, 
1579,  from  "  John  Shackspere  and  Mary  his  wyeffe  "  (Shake- 
speare's parents)  "  to  Robt.  Webbe,  of  their  moitye  of  2  mes- 
suages or  tenements  in  Snitterfield ; "  an  original  grant  of  four 
yard  lands,  in  Stratford  fields,  of  William  and  John  Combe  to 
Shakespeare,  in  1602 ;  a  deed  with  the  autograph  of  Gilbert 
Shakespeare,  brother  of  the  poet,  1609 ;  a  declaration  in  an 
action  in  court  of  Shakespeare  v.  Philip  Rogers,  to  recover  a 
bill  for  malt  sold  by  Shakespeare,  1604. 

Then  there  were  numerous  engravings  and  etchings  of  various 
old  objects  of  interest  in  and  about  Stratford,  various  portraits 
of  the  poet,  eighteen  sketches,  illustrating  the  songs  and  ballads 
of  Shakespeare,  done  by  the  members  of  the  Etching  Club,  and 
presented  by  them  to  this  collection.  Among  the  portraits  is 
one  copied  in  crayon  from  the  Chandos  portrait,  said  to  have 
been  painted  when  Shakespeare  was  about  forty-three,  and 
one  of  the  best  portraits  extant  —  an  autographic  document, 
bearing  the  signature  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  the  original  Justice 
Shallow,  owner  of  the  neighboring  estate  of  Charlecote,  upon 
wliich  Shakespeare  was  arrested  for  deer-stealing.  These, 
and  other  curious  relics  connected  with  the  history  of  the 
poet,  were  to  us  possessed  of  so  much  interest  that  we  quite 
wore  out  the  patience  of  the  good  dame  who  acted  as  custo- 
dian, and  she  was  relieved  by  her  daughter,  who  was  put  in 
smiling  good  humor  by  our  purchase  of  stereoscopic  views  at 
a  shilling  each,  which  can  be  had  in  London  at  six-pence,  and 
chatted  away  merrily  till  we  bade  farewell  to  the  poet's  birth- 


122  THE    VILLAGE    PASTRY    COOK. 

place,  and  started  off  adown  the  pleasant  village  street  for 
the  little  church  upon  the  banks  of  the  River  Avon,  which  is 
his  last  resting-place. 

However  sentimental,  poetical,  or  imaginative  one  may  be, 
there  comes  a  time  when  the  cravings  of  appetite  assert 
themselves ;  and  vulgar  and  inappropriate  as  it  was,  we 
found  ourselves  exceedingly  hungry  here  in  Stratford,  and  we 
went  into  a  neat  bijou  of  a  pastry  cook's  —  we  should  call  it 
a  confectioner's  shop  in  America,  save  that  there  was  nothing 
but  cakes,  pies,  bread,  and  pastry  for  sale.  The  little  shop 
was  a  model  of  neatness  and  compactness.  Half  a  dozen 
persons  would  have  crowded  the  space  outside  the  counter, 
which  was  loaded  with  fresh,  lightly-risen  sponge  cakes,  rice 
cakes,  puffs,  delicious  flaky  pastry,  fruit  tarts,  the  jn'eserves  in 
them  clear  as  amber,  fresh,  white,  close-grained  English  bread, 
and  heaps  of  those  appetizing  productions  of  pure,  unadulter- 
ated pastry,  that  the  English  pastry  baker  knows  so  well  how 
to  prepare.  The  bright  young  English  girl,  in  red  cheeks, 
modest  dress,  and  white  apron,  who  served  us,  was,  to  use  an 
English  expression,  a  very  nice  young  person,  and,  in  answer 
to  our  queries  and  praises  of  her  wares,  told  us  that  herself 
and  her  mother  did  the  fancy  baking  of  pies  and  cakes,  a 
man  baker  whom  they  employed  doing  the  bread  and  heavy 
work.  The  gentry,  the  country  round,  were  supplied  from 
their  shop.     How  long  had  they  been  there  ? 

She  and  mother  had  always  been  there.  The  shop  had 
been  in  the  family  over  seventy  years. 

"Just  like  the  English,"  said  one  of  the  party,  aside.  "It's 
not  at  all  astonishing  they  make  such  good  things,  having 
had  seventy  years'  practice." 

And  this  little  incident  is  an  apt  illustration  of  how  a  busi- 
ness is  kept  in  one  family,  and  in  one  place,  generation  after 
generation,  in  England';  so  different  from  our  country,  where 
the  sons  of  the  poor-  cobbler  or  humble  artisan  of  yesterday 
may  be  the  proud  aristocrat  of  to-day. 

There  is  nothing  remarkable  about  the  pleasant  church  of 
Stratford,  which  contains  the  poet's  grave.     It  is  situated  neai 


STRATFORD    CHURCH.  123 

the  banks  of  the  Avon,  and  the  old  sexton  escorted  us  through 
an  avenue  of  trees  to  its  great  Gothic  door,  which  he  un- 
locked, and  we  were  soon  before  the  familiar  monument, 
which  is  in  a  niche  in  the  chancel.  It  is  the  well-known,  half- 
length  figure,  above  which  is  his  coat  of  arms,  surmounted  by 
a  skull,  and  upon  either  side  figures  of  Cupid,  one  holding  an 
inverted  torch,  and  the  other  a  skull  and  a  spade.  Beneath 
the  cushion,  upon  which  the  poet  is  represented  as  writing,  is 
this  inscription :  — 

"  Jvdicio  Pylivm  Genio  Socratem  Arte  Maronem  Terra  Tegit 
Popvlvs  Mceret  Olympvs  Habet. 

"  Stay,  passenger;  who  goest  thou  by  so  fast? 
Read,  if  thou  canst,  whom  envious  death  has  plast 
Within  this  monument :  Shakespeare,  with  whotne 
Qvicke  natvre  died;  whose  name  doth  deck  ys  tombe 
Par  more  than  cost ;  sith  all  yt  he  hath  writt 
Leaves  living  art  but  page  to  serve  his  witt. 
"  Obiit  Ano  Doi,  1G16. 
^tatis  53,  Die  23  Ap." 

This  half-length  figure,  we  are  told,  was  originally  painted 
after  nature,  the  eyes  being  hazel,  and  the  hair  and  beard 
auburn,  the  dress  a  scarlet  doublet,  slashed  on  the  breast,  over 
which  was  a  loose,  sleeveless  black  gown;  but  in  1793  it  was 
painted  all  over  white. 

In  front  of  the  altar-rails,  upon  the  second  step  leading  to 
the  altar,  are  the  gravestones  (marble  slabs)  of  the  Shake- 
speare family,  among  them  a  slab  marking  the  resting-place 
of  his  wife,  Anne  (Anne  Hathaway)  ;  and  the  inscription  tells 
us  that 

"  Here  lyeth  interred  the  body  of  Anne, 
wife  of  William  Shakspeare,  who  depted  this  life  the 
6th  day  of  Avg:  1623,  being  of  the  age  of  67  years." 

Another  slab  marks  the  grave  of  Thomas  Nash,  who  mar- 
ried the  only  daughter  of  the  poet's  daughter  Susanna,  one  that 
of  her  father,  Dr.  John  Hall,  and  another  that  of  Susanna  her- 
self; the  slab  bearing  the  poet's  celebrated  epitaph  is,  of  course, 
that  which  most  holds  the  attention  of  the  visitor,  and  as  he 


124  shakespeaee's  safeguard. 

reads  the  inscription  which  has  proved  such  a  safeguard  to 
the  remains  of  its  author,  he  cannot  help  feeling  something  of 
awe  the  epitaph  is  so  threatening,  so  almost  like  a  malediction. 

"Good  friend,  for  Jesus'  sake  forbeare 
To  digg  the  dust  encloased  heare  : 
Bleste  be  ye  man  yt  spares  thes  stones, 
And  cursed  be  he  yt  moves  my  bones." 

And  it  is  doubtless  the  unwillingness  to  brave  Shakespeare's 
curse  that  has  prevented  the  removal  of  the  poet's  remains 
to  Westminster  Abbey,  and  the  fear  of  it  that  will  make  the 
little  church,  in  the  pleasant  little  town  of  Stratford,  his  last 
resting-place.  I  could  not  help  noticing,  while  standing 
beside  the  slab  that  marked  the  poet's  grave,  hoAV  i/iat  par- 
ticular slab  had  been  respected  by  the  thousands  of  feet  that 
had  made  their  pilgrimage  to  the  place ;  for  while  the  neigh- 
boring slabs  and  pavement  were  worn  from  the  friction  of 
many  feet,  this  was  comparatively  fresh  and  rough  as  when 
first  laid  down,  no  one  caring  to  trample  upon  the  grave  of 
Shakespeare,  especially  after  having  read  the  poet's  invoca 

tion,  — 

"  Bleste  be  ye  man  yt  spares  thes  stones ;  " 

and  so  with  uncovered  head  and  reverential  air  he  passes 
around  it  and  not  over  it,  although  no  rail  or  guard  bars  his 
steps,  —  that  one  line  of  magic  power  a  more  effectual  bar 
than  human  hand  could  now  place  there. 

The  little  shops  in  the  quaint  little  streets  of  Stratford,  all 
make  the  most  of  that  which  has  made  their  town  famous ; 
and  busts  of  Shakespeare,  pictures,  carvings,  guide-books, 
engravings,  and  all  sorts  of  mementos  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  visitors,  are  displayed  in  their  windows.  A  china 
ware  store  had  Shakespeare  plates  and  dishes,  with  pictorial 
representations  of  the  poet's  birthplace,  Stratford  church,  &c, 
upon  them,  so  that  those  inclined  could  have  Shakespeare 
plates  from  sixpence  to  three  shillings  each,  illustrating  their 
visit  here. 

How  often  I  had  read  of  the  old  feudal  barons  of  Warwick, 


GUT    WARWICK   AND    HIS    DEEDS.  125 

and  their  warlike  deeds,  which  coenpy  so  conspicuous  a  place 
in  England's  history !  There  were  the  old  Saxon  earls,  and, 
most  famous  of  all,  the  celebrated  Guy,  that  every  school-boy 
has  read  of,  who  was  a  redoubtable  warrior  in  the  time  of 
Alfred  the  Great,  and  doubtless  has  in  history  grown  in 
height  as  his  deeds  have  in  wonder,  for  he  is  stated  to  have 
been  a  Saxon  giant  nine  feet  high,  killed  a  Saracen  giant  in 
single  combat,  slain  a  wild  boar,  a  green  dragon,  and  an 
enormous  dun  cow,  although  why  killing  a  cow  was  any  evi- 
dence of  a  warrior's  prowess  I  am  unable  to  state.  But  we 
saw  at  the  porter's  lodge,  at  the  castle,  as  all  tourists  do  (and 
I  write  it  as  all  tourists  do),  a  big  rib  of  something,  —  it  would 
answer  for  a  whale  or  elephant,  —  which  we  were  told  was  the 
rib  of  the  cow  aforesaid;  also  some  of  the  bones  of  the  boar; 
but  when  I  asked  the  old  dame,  who  showed  the  relics,  if  any 
of  the  scales  of  the  dragon,  or  if  any  of  his  teeth,  had  been 
preserved,  she  said,  — 

"  The  dragon  story  mightn't  be  true ;  but  'ere  we  'aue  the 
cow's  ribs  and  the  boar's  bones,  and  there's  no  disputin'  them, 
you  see." 

So  we  didn't  dispute  them,  nor  the  great  tilting-pole,  breast- 
plate, and  fragments  of  armor  said  to  have  belonged  to  Guy, 
or  the  huge  porridge-pot  made  of  bronze  or  bell-metal,  which 
holds  ever  so  many  gallons,  and  which  modern  Earls  of  War- 
wick sometimes  use  on  great  occasions  to  brew  an  immense 
jorum  of  punch  in.  Guy's  sword,  which  I  took  an  experi- 
mental swing  of,  required  an  exercise  of  some  strength,  and 
both  hands,  to  make  it  describe  a  circle  above  my  head,  and 
must  have  been  a  trenchant  blade  in  the  hands  of  one  able  to 
wield  it  effectively. 

Old  Guy  was  by  no  means  the  only  staunch  warrior  of  the 
Earls  of  Warwick.  There  was  one  who  died  in  the  Holy 
Land  in  1184;  another,  who  stood  by  King  John  in  all  his 
wars  with  the  barons ;  another,  who  was  captured  in  his  castle ; 
another,  Guy  de  Beauchamp,  who  fought  for  the  king  bravely 
in  the  battle  of  Falkirk ;  and  another,  who,  under  the  Black 
Prince,  led  the  van  of  the   English   army   at   Cressy,  and 


126  WARWICK   CASTLE. 

fought  bravely  at  Poictiers,  till  his  galled  hand  refused  to 
grasp  his  battle-axe,  and  who  went  over  to  France  and  saved 
a  suffering  English  army  at  Calais  in  1369,  and  many  others, 
who  have  left  the  impress  of  their  deeds  upon  the  pages  of 
history. 

The  old  town  of  Warwick  dates  its  foundation  about  A.  D. 
50,  and  its  castle  in  916.  Staying  at  the  little  old-fashioned 
English  inn,  the  Warwick  Arms,  two  of  us  had  to  dine  in 
solemn  state  alone  in  a  private  room,  the  modern  style  of  a 
table  d'hote  not  being  introduced  in  that  establishment,  which, 
although  well  ordered,  scrupulously  neat  and  comfortable, 
nevertheless,  in  furniture  and  general  appearance,  reminded 
one  of  the  style  of  thirty  years  ago. 

Of  course  the  lion  of  Warwick  is  the  castle,  and  to  that 
old  stronghold  we  wend  our  way.  The  entrance  is  through 
a  large  gateway,  and  we  pass  up  through  a  roadway  or  ap- 
proach to  the  castle,  which  is  cut  through  the  solid  rock  for  a 
hundred  yards  or  more,  and  emerging  into  the  open  space, 
come  suddenly  in  view  of  the  walls  and  magnificent  round 
cylindrical  towers. 

First  there  is  Guy's  Tower,  with  its  walls  ten  feet  thick,  its 
base  thirty  feet  in  diameter,  and  rising  to  a  height  of  one 
hundred  and  twenty-eight  feet ;  Caesar's  Tower,  built  in  the 
time  of  the  Norman  conquest,  eight  hundred  years  old,  still 
strong  and  in  good  preservation,  and  between  these  two  the 
strong  castle  walls,  of  the  same  description  that  appear  in  all 
pictures  of  old  castles,  with  the  spaces  for  bowmen  and  other 
defenders ;  towers,  arched  gateways,  portcullis,  double  walls, 
and  disused*  moat  attest  the  former  strength  of  this  noted 
fortification. 

As  the  visitor  passes  through  the  gate  of  the  great  walls, 
and  gets,  as  it  were,  into  the  interior  of  the  enclosure,  with 
the  embattled  walls,  the  turrets  and  towers  on  every  side  of 
him,  he  sees  that  the  castle  is  a  tremendous  one,  and  its  oc- 
cupant, when  it  was  in  its  prime,  might  have  exclaimed  with 
better  reason  than  Macbeth,  "  Our  castle's  strength  will  laugh 
a  siege  to  scorn." 


DUNGEON   AND    HALL.  127 

The  scene  from  the  interior  is  at  once  grand  and  romantic, 
the  velvet  turf  and  fine  old  -trees  in  the  spacious  area  of  the 
court-yard  harmonize  well  with  the  time-browned,  ivy-clad 
towers  and  battlements,  and  a  ramble  upon  the  broad  walk 
that  leads  around  the  latter  is  fraught  with  interest.  We 
stood  in  the  little  sheltered  nooks,  from  which  the  cross-bow- 
men and  arquebusiers  discharged  their  weapons ;  we  looked 
down  into  the  grass-grown  moat,  climbed  to  the  top  of  Guy's 
Tower,  and  saw  the  charming  landscape ;  went  below  Cassar's 
Tower  into  the  dismal  dungeons  where  prisoners  were  con- 
fined and  restrained  by  an  inner  grating  from  even  reaching 
the  small  loophole  that  gave  them  their  scanty  supply  of 
light  and  air ;  and  here  we  saw  where  some  poor  fellow  had 
laboriously  cut  in  the  rock,  as  near  the  light  as  he  could,  the 
record  of  his  weary  confinement  of  years,  with  a  motto  at- 
tached, in  quaint  style  of  spelling ;  and  finally,  after  visiting 
grounds,  towers,  and  walls,  went  into  the  great  castle  proper, 
now  kept  in  repair,  elegantly  furnished  and  rich  in  pictures, 
statues,  arms,  tapestry,  and  antiquities. 

The  first  apartment  we  entered  was  the  entrance,  or  Great 
Hall,  which  was  hung  with  elegant  armor  of  all  ages,  of  rare 
and  curious  patterns :  the  walls  of  this  noble  hall,  which  is 
sixty-two  feet  by  forty,  are  wainscoted  with  fine  old  oak, 
embrowned  with  age,  and  in  the  Gothic  roofing  are  carved 
the  Bear  and  Ragged  Staff  of  Robert  Dudley's  crest;  also,  the 
coronet  and  shields  of  the  successive  earls  from  the  year 
1220.  Among  the  curiosities  here  were  numerous  specimens 
of  old-fashioned  fire-arms,  and  one  curious  old-fashioned  re- 
volving pistol,  made  two  hundred  years  before  Colt's  pistols 
were  invented,  and  which  I  was  assured  the  American  re- 
peatedly visited  before  he  perfected  the  weapon  that  bears 
his  name.  The  same  story,  however,  was  afterwards  told  me 
about  an  old  revolver  in  the  Tower  of  London,  and  I  think 
also  in  another  place  in  England,  and  the  exhibitors  seemed 
to  think  Colonel  Colt  had  only  copied  an  old  English  affair 
that  they  had  thrown  aside :  however,  this  did  not  ruffle  my 
national  pride  to  any  great  degree,  inasmuch  as  I  ascertained 


128  WEAPONS    AND    PICTURES. 

that,  about  all  leading  American  inventions  of  any  importance 
are  regarded  by  these  complacent  Britons  as  having  had  their 
origin  in  their  "  tight  little  island."  There  were  the  English 
steel  cross-bows,  which  must  have  projected  their  bolts  with 
tremendous  forces ;  splendid  Andrea  Ferrara  rapiers,  weapons 
three  hundred  years  old,  and  older,  of  exquisite  temper  and 
the  most  beautiful  and  intricate,  workmanship,  inlaid  with 
gold  and  silver,  and  the  hilt  and  scabbards  of  elegant  steel 
filigree  work.  Anions;  the  curious  relics  was  Cromwell's 
helmet,  the  armor  worn  by  the  Marquis  Montrose  when  he 
led  the  rebellion,  Prince  Rupert's  armor,  a  gun  from  the 
battle-field  of  Marston  Moor,  a  quilted  armor  jacket  of  King 
John's  soldiers;  magnificent  antlered  stags'  heads  are  also 
suspended  from  the  walls,  while  from  the  centre  of  the  hall 
one  can  see  at  a  single  glance  through  the  whole  of  the  grand 
suite  of  apartments,  a  straight  line  of  three  hundred  and 
thirty  feet.  From  the  great  Gothic  windows  you  look  down 
below,  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  distant,  to  the  River  Avon, 
and  over  an  unrivalled  picturesque  landscape  view  —  another 
evidence  that  those  old  castle-builders  had  an  eye  to  the 
beautiful  as  well  as  the  substantial.  Looking  from  this  great 
hall  to  the  end  of  a  passage,  we  saw  Vandyke's  celebrated 
picture  of  Charles  I.  on  horseback,  with  baton  in  hand,  one 
end  resting  irpon  his  thigh.  I  had  seen  copies  of  it  a  score 
of  times,  but  the  life-like  appearance  of  the  original  made  me 
inclined  to  believe  in  the  truth  of  the  story  that  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  once  offered  five  hundred  guineas  for  it.  Vandyke 
appears  to  have  been  a  favorite  with  the  earl,  as  there  are 
many  of  his  pictures  in  the  ravishing  collection  that  adorns 
the  apartments  of  the  castle. 

The  apartments  of  the  castle  are  all  furnished  in  exquisite 
taste,  some  with  rich  antique  furniture,  harmonizing  with  the 
rare  antiques,  vases,  cabinets,  bronzes,  and  china  that  is 
scattered  through  them  in  rich  profusion,  and  to  attempt  to 
give  a  detailed  description  would  require  the  space  of  a  vol- 
ume. The  paintings,  however,  cannot  fail  to  attract  the  at- 
tention, although  the  time  allowed  to  look  at  them  is  little 


DRAWING   ROOMS.  129 

short  of  aggravation.  There  is  a  Dutch  Burgomaster,  hy 
Rembrandt;  the  Wife  of  Snyder,  by  Vandyke,  a  beautiful 
painting ;  Spinola,  by  Rubens ;  the  Family  of  Charles  I.,  by 
Vandyke ;  Circe,  by  Guido ;  A  Lady,  by  Sir  Peter  Lely ;  a  Girl 
blowing  Bubbles,  by  Murillo ;  a  magnificently  executed  full- 
length  picture  of  Ignatius  Loyola,  founder  of  the  Jesuits, 
originally  painted  by  Rubens  for  the  Jesuits'  College  of  Ant- 
werp, and  so  striking  as  to  exact  exclamations  of  admiration 
even  from  those  inexperienced  in  art.  One  lovely  little  room, 
called  the  Boudoir,  is  perfectly  studded  with  rare  works  of 
art  —  Henry  VIII.  by  Hans  Holbein,  Barbara  Villiers  by 
Lely,  Boar  Hunt  by  Rubens,  A  Saint  by  Andrea  del  Sarto, 
Road  Scene  by  Teniers,  Landscape  by  Salvator  Rosa.  Just 
see  what  a  feast  for  the  lover  of  art  even  these  comparatively 
few  works  of  the  great  masters  afford ;  and  the  walls  of  the 
rooms  were  crowded  with  them,  the  above  being  only  a  few 
selected  at  random,  as  an  indication  of  the  priceless  value  of 
the  collection. 

In  the  Red  Drawing-room  we  saw  a  grand  Venetian  mirror 
in  its  curious  and  rich  old  frame,  a  rare  cabinet  of  tortoise 
shell  and  ivory,  buhl  tables  of  great  richness,  and  a  beautiful 
table  that  once  belonged  to  Marie  Antoinette,  besides  ancient 
bronzes,  Etruscan  vases,  &c.  In  the  Cedar  Drawing-room 
stood  Hiram  Powers's  bust  of  Proserjnne,  and  superb  tables 
bearing  rare  vases  and  specimens  of  wonderful  enamelled 
work,  and  a  species  of  singular  china  and  glass  ware,  in  which 
raised  metal  figures  appeared  upon  the  surface,  made  by  float- 
ing the  copper  and  other  metal  upon  glass  —  now  a  lost  art. 
An  elegant  dish  of  this  description  Avas  shown  to  us,  said  to 
be  worth  over  a  thousand  pounds  —  a  costly  piece  of  plate, 
indeed. 

We  now  come  to  the  Gilt  Drawing-room,  so  called  because 
the  walls  and  ceiling  are  divided  off  into  panels,  richly  gilt. 
The  walls  of  this  room  are  glorious  with  the  works  of  great 
artists  —  Vandyke,  Murillo,  Rubens,  Sir  Peter  Lely.  Rich 
furniture,  and  a  wonderful  Venetian  table,  known  as  the 
"Grimani  Table,"  of  elegant  mosaic  work,  also  adorn  the 
9 


130  HALLS    AND   FURNITURE. 

apartment.  In  an  old-fashioned  square  room,  known  as  tho 
State  Bedroom,  is  the  bed  and  furniture  of  crimson  velvet 
that  formerly  belonged  to  Queen  Anne.  Here  are  the  table 
that  she  used,  and  her  huge  old  travelling  trunks,  adorned 
with  brass-headed  nails,  with  which  her  initials  are  wrought 
upon  the  lid,  while  above  the  great  mantel  is  a  full-length 
portrait  of  Anne,  in  a  rich  brocade  dress,  wearing  the  collar 
of  the  Order  of  the  Garter,  painted  by  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller. 

The  great  dining-hall,  besides  some  fine  pictures  and  an- 
;  «mt  Roman  busts,  contains  a  remarkable  piece  of  modern 
workmanship,  which  is  known  as  the  "  Kenilworth  Buffet," 
and  which  we  should  denominate  a  large  sideboard.  It  is  an 
elaborate  and  magnificent  specimen  of  wood-carving,  and  was 
manufactured  by  Cookes  &  Son,  of  Warwick,  and  exhibited 
in  the  great  exhibition  of  1851.  The  wood  from  which  it  was 
wrought  was  an  oak  tree  which  grew  on  the  Kenilworth 
estate,  and  which,  from  its  great  age,  is  supposed  to  have  been 
standing  when  Queen  Elizabeth  made  her  celebrated  visit  to 
the  castle.  Carvings  upon  it  represent  the  entry  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  surrounded  by  her  train,  Elizabeth's  meeting  with 
Amy  Robsart  in  the  grotto,  the  interview  between  the  queen 
and  Leicester,  and  other  scenes  from  Scott's  novel  of  Kenil- 
worth ;  also  carved  figures  of  the  great  men  of  the  time  — 
Sidney,  Raleigh,  Shakespeare,  and  Drake,  and  the  arms  of  the 
Leicester  family,  and  the  crest,  now  getting  familiar,  of  the 
Bear  and  Ragged  Staff,  with  other  details,  such  as  water- 
flowers,  dolphins,  &c.  This  sideboard  was  presented  by  the 
town  and  county  of  Warwick  to  the  present  earl  on  his  wed- 
ding day. 

But  we  must  not  linger  too  long  in  these  interesting  halls 
of  the  old  feudal  barons,  or  before  their  rich  treasures  of  art. 
Time  is  not  even  given  one  to  sit,  and  study,  and  drink  in,  as 
it  were,  the  wondrous  beauty  and  exquisite  finish  of  the  artis- 
tic gems  on  their  walls ;  so  we  take  a  parting  glance  at  Te- 
nier's  Guard-room,  the  Duchess  of  Parma  by  Paul  Veronese, 
Murillo's  Court  Jester,  a  splendidly-executed  picture  of 
Leicester  by  Sir  Anthony  Moore,  the  Card-players  by  Teniers, 


WARDER'S    II0RN   AND    WARWICK   VASE.  131 

the  Flight  into  Egypt  by  Rubens,  a  magnificent  marble  bust, 
by  Chantrey,  of  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  in  which  the  noble- 
ness and  generosity  of  that  brave  warrior  were  represented  so 
strikinglyas  to  make  you  almost  raise  your  hat  to  it  in  pass- 
ing. Before  leaving  we  were  shown  the  old  "  warder's  horn," 
with  the  bronze  chain  by  which  it  was  in  old  times  suspended 
at  the  outer  gate  of  the  castle;  and  as  I  grasped  it,  and  es- 
sayed in  vain  to  extract  a  note  beyond  an  exhausted  sort  of 
groan  from  its  bronze  mouth,  I  remembered  the  many  stories 
in  which  a  warder's  horn  figures,  in  poem,  romance,  history, 
and  fable.  I  think  even  Jack  the  Giant-killer  blew  one  at 
the  castle  gate  of  one  of  his  huge  adversaries.  An  inscrip- 
tion on  the  Warwick  horn  gives  the  date  of  1598. 

Leaving  the  apartments  of  the  castle,  and  passing  through 
a  portcullis  in  one  of  the  walls,  and  over  a  bridge  thrown 
across  the  moat,  we  proceeded  to  the  green-house,  rich  in  rare 
flowers  and  plants,  and  in  the  centre  of  which  stands  the  far- 
famed  Warwick  Vase.  The  shape  of  this  vase  is  familiar  to 
all  from  the  innumerable  copies  of  it  that  have  been  made. 
It  is  of  pure  white  marble,  executed  after  pure  Grecian  de- 
sign, and  is  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  ancient  sculpture 
in  existence.  While  looking  upon  its  exquisite  proportions 
and  beautiful  design,  we  can  hardly  realize  that,  compared 
with  it  in  years,  old  Warwick  Castle  itself  is  a  modern  struc- 
ture. The  description  of  it  states  the  well-known  fact  that  it 
was  found  at  the  bottom  of  a  lake  near  Tivoli,  by  Sir  William 
Hamilton,  then  ambassador  at  the  court  of  Naples,  from 
whom  it  was  obtained  by  the  Earl  of  Warwick.  Its  shape  is 
circular,  and  its  capacity  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  gallons. 
Its  two  large  handles  are  formed  of  interwoven  vine-branches, 
from  which  the  tendrils,  leaves,  and  clustering  grapes  spread, 
around  the  upper  margin.  The  middle  of  the  body  is  en- 
folded by  a  panther  skin,  with  head  and  claws  elegantly  cut 
and  finished.  Above  are  the  heads  of  satyrs,  bound  with 
wreaths  of  ivy,  the  vine-clad  spear  of  Bacchus,  and  the  well- 
known  crooked  staff  of  the  Augurs. 

Leaving  the  depository  of  the  vase,  we  sauntered  out  be- 


132  A   QUIET    OLD    TOWN. 

neath  the  shade  of  the  great  trees,  and  looked  across  the  vel- 
vet lawn  to  the  gentle  Avon  flowing  in  the  distance,  and  went 
on  till  we  gained  a  charming  view  of  the  river  front  of  the 
castle,  with  its  towers  and  old  mill,  the  ruined  arches  of  an 
old  bridge,  and  an  English  church  tower  rising  in  the  distance, 
forming  one  of  those  pictures  which  must  be  such  excellent 
capital  for  the  landscape  painter.  On  the  banks  of  the  Avon, 
and  in  the  park  of  the  castle,  we  were  shown  some  of  the  dark 
old  cedars  of  Lebanon,  brought  home,  or  grown  from  those 
brought  home,  from  the  Holy  Land  by  the  Warwick  and  his 
retainers  who  wielded  their  swords  there  against  the  infidel. 

Some  of  the  quiet  old  streets  of  Warwick  seemed,  from 
their  deserted  appearance,  to  be  almost  uninhabited,  were  it 
not  for  here  and  there  a  little  shop,  and  the  general  tidy, 
swept-up  appearance  of  everything.  A  somnolent,  quaint, 
aristocratic  old  air  seemed  to  hang  over  them,  and  I  seemed 
transported  to  some  of  those  quiet  old  streets  at  the  North 
End,  in  Boston,  or  Salem  of  thirty  years  ago,  which  were 
then  untouched  by  the  advance  of  trade,  and  sacred  to  old 
residents,  old  families,  whose  stone  door-stoops  were  spot- 
lessly clean,  whose  brass  door-knobs  and  name-plates  shone 
like  polished  gold,  and  whose  neat  muslin  curtains  at  the  little  i 
front  windows  were  fresh,  airy,  and  white  as  the  down  of  a 
thistle. 

I  stopped  at  a  little  shop  in  Warwick  to  make  a  purchase, 
and  the  swing  of  the  door  agitated  a  bell  that  was  attached 
to  it,  and  brought  out,  from  a  little  sombre  back  parlor,  the 
old  lady,  in  a  clean  white  cap,  who  waited  upon  occasional 
customers  that  straggled  in  as  I  did.  How  staid,  and  quaint, 
and  curious  these  stand-still  old  English  towns,  clinging  to 
their  customs  half  a  century  old,  seem  to  us  restless,  uneasy, 
and  progressive  Yankees ! 

Our  next  ramble  was  down  one  of  these  quiet  old  streets 
to  the  ancient  hospital,  founded  by  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of 
Leicester,  in  1571,  for  a  "master  and  twelve  brethren,"  the 
brethren  to  be  either  deserving  retainers  of  the  earl's  family,  or 
those  who  had  been  wounded  under  the  conduct  of  Leicester 


THREE  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO.  133 

ox*  his  heirs.  These  "brethren"  are  now  appointed  from 
Warwick  and  Gloucester,  and  have  an  allowance  of  eighty 
pounds,  besides  the  privilege  of  the  house.  The  edifice  is 
a  truly  interesting  building,  and  is  one  of  the  very  few  that 
escaped  a  general  conflagration  of  the  town  of  W  arwick  in 
1694,  and  is  at  this  time  one  of  the  most  perfect  specimens  of 
the  half-timber  edifices  which  exist  in  the  country.  Quaint 
and  curious  it  looks  indeed,  massive  in  structure,  brown  with 
age,  a  wealth  of  useless  lumber  about  it,  high-pointed  over- 
hanging gables,  rough  carvings  along  the  first  story,  a  broad, 
low  archway  of  an  entrance,  the  oak  trimmings  hardened  like 
iron,  and  above  the  porch  the  crest  of  the  Bear  and  Ragged 
Staff,  the  initials  R.  L.,  and  the  date  1571. 

And  only  to  think  of  the  changes  that  three  hundred  years 
have  wrought  in  the  style  of  architecture,  as  well  as  comfort 
and  convenience  in  dwelling-houses,  or  in  structures  like  this ! 
We  were  almost  inclined  to  laugh  at  the  variegated  carving 
of  the  timber-work  upon  the  front  of  this  odd  relic  of  the  past, 
as  suggestive  of  a  sign  of  an  American  barber's  shop,  but 
which,  in  its  day,  was  doubtless  considered  elegant  and 
artistic. 

It  stands  a  trifle  raised  above  the  street,  upon  a  sort  of 
platform,  and  the  sidewalk  of  the  street  itself  here  passes  un- 
der the  remains  of  an  old  tower,  built  in  the  time  of  Richard 
II.,  and  said  to  have  been  on  the  line  of  walls  of  defence  of 
the  city.  The  hinges,  on  which  the  great  gate  of  this  part  of 
the  fortification  were  hung,  are  still  visible,  and  pointed  out 
to  visitors. 

Let  us  enter  Leicester's  magnificent  hospital,  an  ostenta- 
tious charity  in  1571 ;  but  how  squat,  odd,  and  old-fashioned 
did  the  low-ceiled  little  rooms  look  now !  how  odd  the  pas- 
sages were  formed !  what  quaint,  curious  old  windows !  how 
rich  the  old  wood-work  looked,  saturated  with  the  breath  of 
time !  and  here  was  the  great  kitchen,  with  its  big  fireplace  — 
the  kitchen  where  a  mug  of  beer  a  day,  I  think,  is  served,  and 
where  the  "  brethren "  are  allowed  to  smoke  their  long,  clay 
pipes;   a  row  of  their  beer  tankards  (what  a  national  bev- 


134  Leicester's  hospital. 

erage  beer  is  in  "England !)  glittered  on  the  dresser.  Here 
also  bung  the  uniform  which  the  "  brethren "  are  obliged  by 
statute  always  to  wear  when  they  go  out,  which  consists  of  a 
handsome  blue  broadcloth  gown, '  with  a  silver  badge  of  a 
Bear  and  Ragged  Staff  suspended  on  the  left  sleeve  behind. 
These  badges,  now  in  use,  are  the  identical  ones  that  were 
worn  by  the  first  brethren  appointed  by  Lord  Leicester,  and 
the  names  of  the  original  wearers,  and  the  date,  1571,  are  en- 
graved on  the  back  of  each ;  one  only  of  these  badges  was 
ever  lost,  and  that  about  twenty-five  years  ago,  when  it  cost 
five  guineas  to  replace  it.  In  what  was  once  the  great  hall  is 
a  tablet,  stating  that  King  James  I.  was  once  sunrptuously 
entertained  there  by  Sir  Fulke  Greville,  and  no  doubt  had  his 
inordinate  vanity  flattered,  as  his  courtiers  were  wont  to  do, 
and  his  gluttonous  appetite  satisfied.  Sitting  in  the  very 
chair  he  occupied  when  there,  I  did  not  feel  that  it  was  much 
honor  to  occivpy  the  seat  of  such  a  learned  simpleton  as 
Elizabeth's  successor  proved  to  be. 

Very  interesting  relics  were  the  two  little  ancient  pieces  of 
embroidery  preserved  here,  which  were  wrought  by  the  fair 
fingers  of  the  ill-fated  Amy  Robsart,  wife  of  Leicester ;  one 
a  fragment  of  satin,  with  the  everlasting  Bear  and  Staff 
wrought  upon  it,  and  the  other  a  sort  of  sampler,  the  only 
authentic  relic  of  anything  belonging  to  this  unhappy  lady 
known  to  exist. 

At  the  rear  of  the  hospital  is  a  fine  old  kitchen  garden,  in 
which  the  brethren  each  have  a  little  portion  set  apart  to  cul- 
tivate themselves,  and  where  they  can  also  enjoy  a  quiet 
smoke  and  a  fine  view  at  the  same  time ;  and  this  hospital  is 
the  most  enduring  monument  that  Leicester  has  left  behind 
him :  his  once  magnificent  abode  at  Kenilworth  is  but  a  heap 
of  ruins,  and  the  proud  estate,  a  property  of  over  twenty 
miles  in  circumference,  wrested  from  him  by  the  government 
of  his  time,  never  descended  to  his  family.  Mentioning  mon- 
uments to  Leicester,  however,  reminds  us  of  the  pretentious 
one  erected  to  him  in  the  chapel  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  which 
we  visited,  in  Warwick,  known  as  the  Beau  champ  Chapel,  and 


BEAUCHAMP   CHAPEL.  135 

which  all  residents  of  these  parts  denominate  the  "Beechnra" 
Chapel  —  named  from  the  first  Earl  of  Warwick  of  the  Nor- 
man line,  the  founder  (Bcauchamp). 

The  chapel  is  an  elegant  structure,  the  interior  heing 
fifty-eight  feet  long,  twenty-five  wide,  and  thirty-two  high. 
Over  the  doorway,  on  entering,  we  see  the  arms  of  Beau- 
champ,  supported  on  each  side  by  sculptures  of  the  Bear, 
Ragged  Staff,  oak  leaves,  &c.  The  fine  old  time-blackened 
seats  of  oak  are  richly  and  elaborately  carved,  and  above,  in 
the  groined  roof,  are  carved  shields,  bearing  the  quarterings 
of  the  Earls  of  Warwick ;  but  the  great  object  of  interest  is  the 
tomb,  of  the  great  Earl  of  Warwick,  which  this  splendid 
chapel  was  built  .to  enshrine.  It  is  a  large,  square,  marble 
structure,  situated  in  the  centre  of  the  building,  elegantly  and 
elaborately  carved  with  ornamental  work,  and  containing,  in 
niches,  fourteen  figures  of  lords  and  ladies,  designed  to  repre- 
sent relatives  of  the  deceased,  while  running  around  the  edge, 
cut  into  brass,  is  the  inscription,  in  Old  English  characters. 
Upon  the  top  of  this  tomb  lies  a  full-length  bronze  or  brass  effigy 
of  the  great  earl,  sheathed  in  full  suit  of  armor,  —  breastplate, 
cuishes,  greaves,  &c,  —  complete  in  all  its  details,  and  finished 
even  to  the  straps  and  fastenings ;  the  figure  is  not  attached, 
but  laid  upon  the  monument,  and  its  back  is  finished  as  per- 
fectly as  the  front  in  all  its  equipments  and  correctness  of 
detail.  The  head,  which  is  uncovered,  rests  upon  the  helmet, 
and  the  feet  of  the  great  metal  figure  upon  a  bear  and  a 
griffin.  Above  this  recumbent  figure  is  a  sort  of  rail-work  of 
curved  strips  and  thick  transverse  rods  of  brass,  over  which, 
in  old  times,  hung  a  pall,  or  curtain,  to  shield  this  wondrous 
effigy  from  the  dust ;  and  a  marvel  of  artistic  work  it  is,  one 
of  the  finest  works  of  the  kind  of  the  middle  ages  in  exist- 
ence, for  the  earl  died  in  1439;  and  another  curious  relic 
must  be  the  original  agreement  or  contract  for  its  construction, 
which,  I  was  told,  is  still  in  existence. 

Robert  Dudley,  Queen  Elizabeth's  Leicester,  has  an  elabo- 
rately-executed monument  in  the  chapel,  consisting  of  a  sort 
of  altar-tomb,  beneath  a  canopy   supported  by  Corinthian 


136  "lying  like  a  tombstone." 

pillars.  Upon  the  tomb  are  recumbent  effigies  of  Leicester 
and  his  Countess  Lettice,  while  an  inscription  sets  forth  the 
many  titles  of  the  deceased,  and  concludes  that,  "  his  most 
sorrowful  wife,  Loetitia,  through  a  sense  of  conjugal  love  and 
fidelity,  hath  put  up  this  monument  to  the  best  and  dearest 
of  husbands? 

I  have  heard  of  the  expression  "  lying  like  a  tombstone," 
before  I  ever  saw  Robert  Dudley's  monument ;  but  it  seemed 
now  that  I  must  be  before  the  very  one  from  whence  the 
adage  was  derived,  unless  all  of  that  which  is  received  by 
the  present  generation  as  the  authentic  history  of  this  man 
and  the  aire  in  which  he  lived  be  thrown  aside  as  a  worthless 
fable.  Indeed,  there  were  those  of  the  generation  fifty  years 
ago  who  felt  an  equal  contempt  at  this  endeavor  to  send  a  He 
down  to  posterity,  for  in  an  odd  old,  well-thumbed  volume  of 
a  History  of  the  Town  of  Warwick,  published  in  1815,  which 
I  found  lying  in  one  of  the  window-seats  of  the  Warwick 
Arms,  where  I  seated  myself  to  wait  for  dinner  on  my  return, 
I  found  this  passage,  which  is  historical  truth  and  justice 
concentrated  into  such  a  small  compass,  that  I  transferred  it 
at  once  into  my  note-book.  Having  referred  to  the  Earl  of 
Leicester's  (Robert  Dudley's)  monument,  the  writer  goes  on 
as  follows :  — 

"  Under  the  arch  of  this  grand  monument  is  placed  a  Latin 
inscription,  which  proclaims  the  honors  bestowed  with  pro- 
fusion, but  without  discernment,  upon  the  royal  favorite,  who 
owed  his  future  solely  to  his  personal  attractions,  for  of  moral 
worth  or  intellectual  ability  he  had  none.  Respecting  his 
two  great  military  employments,  here  so  powerfully  set  forth, 
prudence  might  have  recommended  silence,  since  on  one 
occasion  he  acquired  no  glory,  as  he  had  no  opportunity, 
and  on  the  other  the  opportunity  he  had  he  lost,  and  returned 
home  covered  with  deep  and  deserved  disgrace.  That  he 
should  be  celebrated,  even  on  a  tomb,  for  conjugal  affection 
and  fidelity,  must  be  thought  still  more  remarkable  by  those 
who  recollect  that,  according  to  every  appearance  of  proba- 
bility, he  poisoned  his  first  wife,  disowned  his  second,  dishonored 


MUGBY   JUNCTION.  137 

his  third  before  he  married  her,  and,  in  order  to  many  her, 
murdered  her  former  husband.  To  all  this  it  may  be  added, 
that  his  only  surviving  son,  an  infant,  was  a  natural  child,  by 
Lady  Sheffield.  If  his  widowed  countess  did  really  mourn,  as 
she  here  affects,  it  is  believed  that  into  no  other  eye  but  hers, 
and  perhaps  that  of  his  infatuated  queen,  did  a  single  tear 
stray,  when,  September  4,  1588,  he  ended  a  life,  of  which 
the  external  splendor,  and  even  the  affected  piety  and  ostenta- 
tious charity,  were  but  vain  endeavors  to  conceal  or  soften  the 
black  enormity  of  its  guilt  and  shame." 

In  the  chapel  are  monuments  to  others  of  the  Warwicks, 
including  one  to  Leicester's  infant  son,  who  is  said  to  have 
been  poisoned  by  his  nurse  at  three  years  of  age,  and  who  is 
called,  on  his  tomb,  "  the  noble  Impe  Robert  of  Dudley,"  and 
another  to  Ambrose  Dudley,  Earl  of  Warwick,  brother  to 
Leicester,  and  honorably  distinguished,  as  a  man,  for  his  vir- 
tues, as  the  other  for  his  crimes. 

We  go  from  Warwick  to  Oxford  by  rail ;  but  I  must  not 
omit  to  mention  that  in  one  of  our  excursions  not  far  from 
Warwick,  as  the  train  stopped  at  Rugby  junction,  the  "  Mug- 
by  junction"  that  Dickens  has  described,  we  visited  the  re- 
freshment-room, and  got  some  very  good  sandwiches,  and 
were  very  well  served  by  the  young  ladies  at  the  counter ; 
indeed,  Dickens's  sketch  has  been  almost  as  good  an  advertise- 
ment for  the  "  Mugby  sandwiches  "  as  Byron's  line,  "  Thine 
incomparable  oil,  Macassar,"  was  for  Rowland's  ruby  com- 
pound ;  and  the  young  ladies  have  come  to  recognize  Ameri- 
cans by  their  invariably  purchasing  sandwiches,  and  their 
inquiry,  "  Where  is  the  boy  ? " 

From  Warwick,  on  our  way  to  Oxford,  we  passed  near 
Edgehill,  the  scene  of  the  first  battle  of  Charles  I.  against 
his  Parliament,  and  halted  a  brief  period  at  Banbury,  where 
an  accommodating  English  gentleman  sought  out  and  sent 
us  one  of  the  venders  of  the  noted  "  Banbury  cakes,"  and 
who  informed  us  that  the  Banbury  people  actually  pxit  up, 
a  few  years  ago,  a  croiss,  that  is  now  standing  there,  from 
the  fact  that  so  many  travellers   stopped  in  the   town  to 


138  OXFORD. 

see  the  Banbury  Crous  mentioned  in  the  rhyme  of  their 
childhood,  — 

"Ride  a  cock  horse  to  Banbury  Cross 
To  see  an  old  woman  get  on  a  white  horse,"  — 

who,  before  it  was  erected,  went  away  disappointed  at  not 
seeing  what  they  had  set  down  in  their  minds  was  the  lead- 
ing feature  of  the  town,  thinking  that  they  had,  in  some  way 
or  other,  been  imposed  upon  by  not  finding  any  one  in  the 
place  who  knew  of  it,  or  cared  to  show  it  to  them. 

But  we  will  leave  the  old  town  of  Warwick  behind  us,  for 
a  place  still  more  interesting  to  the  American  tourist— a 
city  which  contains  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  celebrated 
universities  in  Europe ;  a  city  where  Alfred  the  Great  once 
lived ;  which  was  stormed  by  "William  the  Conqueror ;  where 
Richard  the  Lion-hearted  was  born ;  and  where,  in  the  reign 
of  Bloody  Mary,  Latimer,  Ridley,  and  Cranmer  were  burned 
at  the  stake;  through  whose  streets  the  victorious  parlia- 
mentary army  marched,  with  drums  beating  and  colors  flying, 
after  the  battle  of  Naseby  —  Oxford. 

Oxford,  that  Hughes's  Tom  Brown  at  Oxford  has  made 
the  youngsters  of  the  present  day  long  to  see ;  Oxford,  that 
figures  in  so  many  of  the  English  novels ;  Oxford,  where 
Verdant  Green,  in  the  novel,  had  so  many  funny  experiences ; 
Oxford,  where  the  "  Great  Tom  "  —  a  bell  spoken  of  in  story- 
books and  nursery  rhymes  —  is ;  and  a  thousand  other  things 
that  have  made  these  celebrated  old  cities  a  sort  of  dream- 
land to  us  in  America,  who  have  longed  to  see  the  curious 
relics  of  the  past  with  which  they  are  crammed,  and  walk 
amid  those  scenes,  the  very  descriptions  of  which  fill  one's 
mind  with  longings  or  ])leasant  anticipations  as  we  hang  over 
the  printed  pages  that  describe  them. 

We  rode  in  our  cab  to  the  old  Mitre  Tavern,  and  a  very 
old-fashioned  place  it  is.  Indeed,  to  the  tourist,  one  of  the 
lions  of  the  place  will  be  the  "Mitre."  The  first  thing 
noticeable  upon  entering  the  low-linteled  front  entrance  of 
this  first-class  Oxford  hotel  was  a  framework  of  meat-hooks 


HIE   MITKE    TAVERN.  139 

■ 

overhead,  along  one  side  of  the  ceiling  of  the  whole  entrance 
corridor ;  and  upon  these  were  suspended  mutton,  beef,  game, 
poultry,  &c. ;  in  fact,  a  choice  display  of  the  larder  of  the 
establishment.  I  suppose  this  is  the  English  "  bill  of  fare," 
for  they  have  no  way  here  of  letting  guests  know  what  they 
can  have  served  at  the  table,  other  than  through  the  servant 
who  waits  upon  you;  and  his  assortment,  one  often  finds, 
dwindles  down  to  the  everlasting  "  chops,"  "  'am  and  heggs," 
or  "  roast  beef,"  "  mutton,"  and  perhaps  "  fowls." 

The  cooking  at  the  Mitre  is  unexceptionable,  as,  indeed,  it 
is  generally  in  all  inns  throughout  England.  The  quality  of 
the  meats,  the  bread,  the  ale,  the  wines,  in  fact  everything 
designed  for  the  palate  at  this  house  is  of  the  purest  and 
best  quality,  and  such  as  any  gastronomist  will,  after  testing 
them,  cherish  with  fond  recollections ;  but  the  other  accom- 
modations are  of  the  most  old-fashioned  style.  The  hotel 
seems  to  be  a  collection  of  old  dwellings,  with  entrances  cut 
through  the  walls,  judging  from  the  quaint,  crooked,  dark 
passages,  some  scarcely  wide  enough  for  two  persons  to  pass 
each  other  in,  and  the  little  low-ceiled  rooms,  with  odd,  old- 
fashioned  furniture,  such  as  we  used  to  see  in  our  grand- 
fathers' houses  forty  years  ago  —  solid  mahogany  four-post 
bedsteads,  with  chintz  spreads  and  curtains  ;  old  black  ma- 
hogany brass-trimmed  bureaus  ;  wash-stands,  with  a  big  hole 
cut  to  receive  the  huge  crockery  wash-bowl,  which  held  a 
gallon  ;  feather  beds,  and  old  claw-footed  chairs. 

This  is  the  solid,  old-fashioned  comfort  (?)  an  Englishman 
likes.  Furthermore,  you  have  no  gas  fixtures  in  your  room. 
Gas  in  one's  sleeping-room  is  said  by  hotel-keepers  in  England 
to  be  unhealthy,  possibly  because  it  might  prevent  a  regula- 
tion in  the  charge  for  fight  which  the  use  of  candles  affords. 
Upon  my  ringing  the  bell,  and  asking  the  chambermaid  who 
responded  —  waiters  and  bell-boys  never  "answer  a  bell" 
here  —  for  a  lighter  and  more  airy  room  than  the  little,  square, 
one-windowed,  low-ceiled  apartment  which  was  assigned  me, 
I  was  informed  that  the  said  one-windowed  box  was  the  same 
that  Lord  Sophted  "  halways  'ad  when  he  was  down  to 
Hoxford." 


140  A   COLLEGE    GUIDE. 

Notwithstanding  this  astounding  information,  to  the  sur- 
prise of  the  servant,  I  insisted  upon  a  different  room,  and  was 
assigned  another  apartment,  which  varied  from  the  first  hy 
having  two  windows  instead  of  one.  The  fact  that  Sir 
Somebody  Something,  or  Lord  Nozoo,  has  occupied  a  room, 
or  praised  a  brand  of  wine,  or  the  way  a  mutton  chop  was 
cooked,  seems  to  be  in  England  the  credit  mark  that  is 
expected  to  pass  it,  without  question,  upon  every  untitled 
individual  who  shall  thereafter  presume  to  call  for  it;  and 
the  look  of  unmitigated  astonishment  which  the  servant  will 
bestow  upon  an  "  Hamerican "  who  dares  to  assert  that  any 
thing  of  the  kind  was  not  so  good  as  he  was  accustomed  to, 
and  he  must  have  better,  is  positively  amusing.  Americans 
are,  however,  beginning  to  be  understood  in  this  respect  by 
English  hotel-keepers,  and  are  generally  put  in  the  best  apart- 
ments —  and  charged  the  best  prices. 

It  would  be  an  absurdity,  in  the  limits  permissible  in  a 
series  of  sketches  like  these,  to  attempt  a  detailed  descrip- 
tion of  Oxford  and  its  colleges ;  for  there  are  more  than  a 
score  of  colleges,  besides  the  churches,  halls,  libraries,  divinity 
schools,  museums,  and  other  buildings  connected  with  the 
university.  There  are  some  rusty  old  fellows,  who  hang 
round  the  hotels,  and  act  as  guides  to  visitors,  showing  them 
over  a  route  that  takes  in  all  the  principal  colleges,  and  the 
way  to  the  libraries,  museums,  &c.  One  of  these  walking 
encyclopedists  of  the  city,  as  he  proved  to  be,  became  our 
guide,  and  we  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  those  fine  old  mon- 
uments of  the  reverence  for  learning  of  past  ages.  Only 
think  of  visiting  a  college  founded  by  King  Alfred,  or 
another  whose  curious  carvings  and  architecture  are  of  the 
twelfth  century,  or  another  founded  by  Edward  II.  in  1326, 
or  going  into  the  old  quadrangle  of  All  Souls  College, 
through  the  toAver  gateway  built  A.  D.  1443,  or  the  magnifi- 
cent pile  of  buildings  founded  by  Cardinal  "Wolsey,  the 
design,  massive  structure,  and  ornamentation  of  which  were 
grand  for  his  time,  and  give  one  some  indication  of  the  ideas 
of  that  ambitious  prelate. 


LIVE    AT    OXFORD.  141 

The  college  buildings  are  in  various  styles  of  architecture, 
from  the  twelfth  century  down  to  the  present  time,  most  of 
them  being  built  in  form  of  a  holloAV  square,  the  centre  of 
the  square  being  a  large,  pleasant  grass  plot,  or  quadrangle, 
upon  which  the  students'  windows  opened.  Entrance  to 
these  interiors  or  quadrangles  is  obtained  through  a  Gothic 
or  arched  gateway,  guarded  by  a  porter  in  charge.  The 
windows  of  the  students'  rooms  were  gay  with  many-colored 
flowers,  musical  with  singing  birds  hung  up  in  cages,  while 
the  interior  of  some  that  we  glanced  into  differed  but  very 
little  from  those  of  Harvard  University,  each  being  fitted  or 
decorated  to  suit  the  taste  of  the  occupant. 

In  some  of  the  old  colleges,  the  rooms  themselves  were 
quaint  and  oddly-shaped  as  friars'  cells  ;  others  large,  luxuri- 
ous, and  airy.  Nearly  all  were  entered  through  a  vestibule, 
and  had  an  outer  door  of  oak,  or  one  painted  in  imitation  of 
oak ;  and  when  this  door  is  closed,  the  occupant  is  said  to  be 
"  sporting  his  oak,"  which  signifies  that  he  is  studying,  busily 
engaged,  and  not  at  home  to  any  one.  There  were  certain 
quarters  also  more  aristocratic  than  others,  where  young  lord- 
lings —  who  were  distinguished  by  the  gold  in  their  hat- 
bands from  the  untitled  students  —  most  did  congregate. 
The  streets  and  shops  of  Oxford  indicated  the  composition 
of  its  population.  You  meet  collegians  in  gowns  and 
trencher  caps,  snuffy  old  professors,  with  their  silk  gowns 
flying  out  behind  in  the  wind,  young  men  in  couples,  young 
men  in  stunning  outfits,  others  in  natty  costumes,  others 
artistically  got  up,  tradesmen's  boys  carrying  bundles  of  mer- 
chandise, and  washer  or  char  women,  in  every  direction  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  colleges. 

Splendid  displays  are  made  in  the  windows  of  tailors'  and 
furnishing  goods  stores  —  boating  uniforms,  different  articles 
of  dress  worn  as  badges,  stunning  neck-ties,  splendidly  got  up 
dress  boots,  hats,  gloves,  museums  of  canes,  sporting  whips, 
cricket  bats,  and  thousands  of  attractive  novelties  to  induce 
students  to  invest  loose  cash,  or  do  something  more  common, 
"run  up  a  bill;"  and  if  these  bills  are  sometimes  not  paid 


142  THE    GKEAT    TOM. 

till  years  afterwards,  the  prices  charged  for  this  species  of 
credit  are  such  as  prove  remunerative  to  the  tradesmen,  who 
lose  much  less  than  might  he  supposed,  as  men  generally 
make  it  a  matter  of  principle  to  pay  their  college  debts. 

The  largest  and  most  magnificent  of  the  quadrangles  is 
that  of  Christ  Church  College.  It  is  two  hundred  and  sixty- 
four  feet  by  two  hundred  and  sixty-one,  and  formed  part  of 
the  original  design  of  Wolsey,  who  founded  this  college. 
This  noble  quadrangle  is  entered  through  a  great  gate, 
known  as  Tom  Gate,  from  the  tower  above  it,  which  contains 
the  great  bell  of  that  name,  the  Great  Tom  of  Oxford,  which 
weighs  seventeen  thousand  pounds.  I  ascended  the  tower 
to  see  this  big  tocsin,  which  was  exhibited  to  me  with  much 
pride  by  the  porter,  as  being  double  the  weight  of  the  great 
bell  in  St.  Paul's,  in  London,  and  upon  our  descending,  was 
shown  the  rope  by  which  it  was  rung,  being  assured  that, 
notwithstanding  the  immense  weight  of  metal,  it  was  so 
hung  that  a  very  moderate  pull  would  sound  it.  Curiosity 
tempted  me,  when  the  porter's  back  was  turned,  to  give  a 
smart  tug  at  the  rope,  which  swung  invitingly  towards  my 
hand ;  and  the  pull  elicited  a  gi'eat  boom  of  bell  metal  above 
that  sounded  like  a  musical  artillery  discharge,  and  did  not 
tend  to  render  the  custodian  desirous  of  juolonging  my  visit 
at  that  part  of  the  college. 

The  dining-hall  of  Christ  Church  College  is  a  notable 
apartment,  and  one  that  all  tourists  visit ;  it  is  a  noble  hall, 
one  hundred  and  thirteen  feet  by  forty,  and  fifty  feet  in 
height.  The  roof  is  most  beautifully  carved  oak,  with  ar- 
morial bearings,  and  decorations  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Cardinal 
Wolsey,  and  was  executed  in  1529.  Upon  the  walls  hangs 
the  splendid  collection  of  original  portraits,  which  is  one  of  its 
most  interesting  features,  many  of  them  being  works  of  great 
artists,  and  representations  of  those  eminent  in  the  history 
of  the  university.  Here  hangs  Holbein's  original  portrait 
of  King  Henry  VIIL,  —  from  which  all  the  representations 
of  the  bluff  polygamist  that  we  are  accustomed  to  see  are 
taken,  —  Queen  Elizabeth's  portrait,  that  of  Cardinal  Wolsey, 


BODLEIAN   LIBRARY.  143 

Bishop  Fell,  Marquis  Wellesley,  John  Locke,  and  over  a  hun- 
dred others  of  "  old  swells,  bishops,  and  lords  chiefly,  who  have 
endowed  the  college  in  some  way,"  as  Tom  Brown  says. 

Indeed,  many  of  the  most  prominent  men  of  English  his- 
tory have  studied  at  Oxford  —  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  the  Black 
Prince,  Hampden,  Butler,  Addison,  Wyclifle,  Archbishop 
Laud,  and  statesmen,  generals,  judges,  and  authors  without 
number.  Long  tables  and  benches  are  ranged  each  side  of 
the  room ;  upon  a  dais  at  its  head,  beneath  the  great  bow 
window,  and  Harry  VIII.'s  picture,  is  a  sort  of  privileged 
table,  at  which  certain  officers  and  more  noble  students  dine 
on  the  fit  of  the  land.  Next  comes  the  table  of  the  "  gentle- 
man commoners,"  a  trifle  less  luxuriously  supplied,  and  at 
the  foot  of  the  hall  "  the  commoners,"  whose  pewter  mugs 
and  the  marked  difference  in  the  style  of  their  table  furniture 
indicate  the  distinctions  of  title,  wealth,  and  poor  gentlemen. 

After  a  peep  at  the  big  kitchen  of  this  college,  which  has 
been  but  slightly  altered  since  the  building  was  erected,  and 
which  itself  was  the  first  one  built  by  Wolsey  in  his  col- 
lege, we  turned  our  steps  to  that  grand  collection  of  literary 
wealth  —  the  Bodleian  Library. 

The  literary  wealth  of  this  library,  in  one  sense,  is  almost 
incalculable.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Dr.  Hachman,  a  graduate  of  the  university  and  one 
of  the  librarians,  and  through  his  courtesy  enabled  to  see 
many  of  the  rare  treasures  of  this  priceless  collection,  that 
would  otherwise  have  escaped  our  notice. 

Here  we  looked  upon  the  first  Latin  Bible  ever  printed, 
the  first  book  printed  in  the  English  language,  by  Caxton,  at 
Bruges,  in  1472,  and  the  first  English  Bible,  printed  by  Miles 
Coverdale.  Here  was  the  very  book  that  Pope  Gregory  sent 
to  Augustin  when  he  went  to  convert  the  Britons,  and  which 
may  have  been  the  same  little  volume  that  he  held  in  his 
hand  when  he  pleaded  the  faith  of  the  Redeemer  to  the  Saxon 
King  Ethelbert,  whom  he  converted  from  his  idolatrous  belief 
'twelve  hundred  years  ago.  I  looked  with  something  like 
veneration  upon  a  little  shelf  containing  about  twenty-five 


144  LITERARY    TREASURES. 

volumes  of  first  editions  of  books  from  the  presses  of  Caxton, 
Guttenberg,  and  Faust,  whose  money  value  is  said  to  be  twenty- 
five  thousand  pounds ;  but  bibliomaniacs  will  well  understand 
that  no  money  value  can  be  given  to  such  treasures. 

We  were  shown  a  curious  old  Bible,  —7  a"  Breeches  "  Bible, 
as  it  is  called,  —  which  has  a  story  to  it,  which  is  this.  About 
one  hundred  years  ago  this  copy  was  purchased  for  the  library 
at  a  comparatively  low  price,  because  the  last  ten  or  fifteen 
pages  were  missing.  The  volume  was  bound,  however,  and 
placed  on  the  shelf;  seventy-five  years  afterwards  the  purchas- 
ing agent  of  the  library  bought,  in  Rome,  a  quantity  of  old 
books,  the  property  of  a  monk ;  they  were  sent  to  England, 
and  at  the  bottom  of  an  old  box,  from  among  stray  pamphlets 
and  rubbish,  out  dropped  a  bunch  of  leaves,  which  proved,  on 
examination  and  comparison,  to  be  the  very  pages  missing 
from  the  volume.  They  are  placed,  not  bound  in,  at  the 
close  of  the  book,  so  that  the  visitor  sees  that  they  were, 
beyond  a  doubt,  the  actual  portion  of  it  that  was  missing. 

Ranged  upon  another  shelf  was  a  set  of  first  editions  of  the 
old  classics.  In  one  room,  in  alcoves,  all  classified,  were  rich 
treasures  of  literature  in  Sanscrit,  Hebrew,  Coptic,  and  even 
Chinese  and  Persian,  some  of  the  latter  brilliant  in  illumina- 
tion. Here  was  Tippoo  Saib's  Koran,  with  its  curious  charac- 
ters, and  the  Book  of  Enoch,  brought  from  Abyssinia  by 
Bruce,  the  African  explorer ;  and  my  kind  cicerone  handed 
me  another  volume,  whose  odd  characters  I  took  to  be  Arabic 
or  Coptic,  but  which  was  a  book  picked  up  at  the  capture  of 
Sebastopol,  in  the  Redan,  by  an  English  soldier,  and  which 
proved,  on  examination,  to  be  The  Pickwick  Papers  in  the 
Russian  language. 

Besides  these,  there  were  specimens  of  all  the  varieties  of 
illuminated  books  made  by  the  monks  between  the  years  800 
and  1000,  and  magnificent  book-makers  they  were,  too.  This 
collection  is  perfect  and  elegant,  and  the  specimens  of  the 
rarest  and  most  beautiful  description,  before  which,  in  beauty 
or  execution,  the  most  costly  and  elaborate  illustrated  books 
of  our  day  sink  into  insignificance.     This  may  seem  difficult 


THE  VOLUMES  OF  SOVEREIGNS.  145 

to  believe ;  but  these  rare  old  volumes,  with  every  letter  done 
by  hand,  their  pages  of  beautifully  prepared  parchment,  as  thin 
as  letter  paper,  —  the  colors,  gold  emblazonry,  and  all  the 
different  hues  as  bright  as  if  laid  on  but  a  year  —  are  a  monu- 
ment of  artistic  skill,  labor,  and  patience,  as  Avell  as  an  evi- 
dence of  the  excellence  and  durability  of  the  material  used 
by  the  old  cloistered  churchmen  who  expended  their  lives 
over  these  elaborate  productions.  The  illuminated  Books  of 
Hours,  and  a  Psalter  in  purple  vellum,  A.  D.  1000,  are  the 
richest  and  most  elegant  specimens  of  book-work  I  ever  looked 
upon.  The  execution,  when  the  rude  mode  and  great  labor 
with  which  it  was  performed  are  taken  into  consideration, 
seems  little  short  of  miraculous.  These  specimens  of  illumi- 
nated books  are  successively  classified,  down  to  those  of  our 
own  time. 

Then  there  were  books  that  had  belonged  to  kings, 
queens,  and  illustrious  or  noted  characters  in  English  his- 
tory. Here  was  a  book  of  the  Proverbs,  done  on  vellum,  for 
Queen  Elizabeth,  by  hand,  the  letters  but  a  trifle  larger  than 
those  of  these  types,  each  proverb  in  a  different  style  of  letter, 
and  in  a  different  handwriting.  Near  by  lay  a  volume  pre- 
sented by  Queen  Bess  to  her  loving  brother,  with  an  inscrip- 
tion to  that  effect  in  the  "  Virgin  Queen's  "  own  handwriting. 
Then  we  examined  the  book  of  Latin  exercises,  written  by 
Queen  Elizabeth  at  school ;  and  it  was  curious  to  examine 
this  neatly-written  manuscript  of  school-girl's  Latin,  penned 
so  carefully  by  the  same  fingers  that  afterwards  signed  the 
death-warrants  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk, and  her  own  favorite,  Essex.  Next  came  a  copy  of 
Bacon's  Essays,  presented  by  Bacon  himself"  to  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  and  elegantly  bound  in  green  velvet  and  gold, 
with  the  donor's  miniature  portrait  set  on  the  cover ;  then  a 
copy  of  the  first  book  printed  in  the  English  language,  and  a 
copy  of  Pliny's  Natural  History,  translated  by  Landino  in. 
1476,  Mary  de  Medicis'  prayer-book,  a  royal;  autograph-book 
of  visitors  to  the  university,  ending  with  the  signatures  of  the 
present  Prince  of  Wales  and  Princess  Alexandra. 
10 


146  CURIOSITIES    AND   RARITIES. 

There  was  also  a  wealth  of  manuscript  documents,  a  host 
of  curious  old  relics  of  antiquity  I  have  forgotten,  and  others 
that  time  only  allowed  a  glance  at,  such  as  the  autographic 
letters  of  Pope,  Milton,  Addison,  and  Archbishop  Laud, 
Queen  Henrietta's  love  letters  to  Charles  I.  before  marriage, 
and  Monmouth's  declaration,  written  in  the  Tower  the  morn- 
ing of  his  execution,  July  15,  1685. 

Among  the  bequests  left  to  this  splendid  library  was  one 
of  thirty-six  thousand  pounds,  for  the  purchasing  of  the  most 
costly  illustrated  books  that  could  be  had ;  and  the  collection 
of  these  magnificent  tomes  in  their  rich  binding  was  of  itself 
a  wonder :  there  were  hosts  of  octavo,  royal  octavo,  elephant 
folio,  imperials,  &c. ;  there  were  Audubon's  Birds,  and  Boy  dell's 
Shakespeare,  and  hundreds  of  huge  books  of  that  size,  many 
being  rare  proof  copies.  Then  we  came  to  a  large  apartment 
which  represented  the  light  literature  of  the  collection.  For 
a  space  of  two  hundred  years  the  library  had  not  any  collec- 
tion of  what  might  properly  be  termed  light  reading.  This 
gap  was  filled  by  a  bequest  of  one  of  the  best,  if  not  the  very 
best,  collections  of  that  species  of  literature  in  the  kingdom, 
which  commences  with  first  editions  of  Cock  Robin  and 
Dame  Trott  and  her  Cat,  and  ends  with  rare  and  costly 
editions  of  Shakespeare's  works. 

Weeks  and  months  might  be  spent  in  this  magnificent 
library  (which  numbers  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand volumes,  besides  its  store  of  curious  historical  man- 
uscripts) without  one's  having  time  to  inspect  one  half  its 
wealth;  and  this  is  not  the  only  grand  library  in  Oxford, 
either.  There  are  the  Library  of  Merton  College,  the  most 
genuine  ancient  library  in  the  kingdom ;  the  celebrated  Rad- 
clifie  Library,  founded  in  1737  by  Dr.  Radcliffe,  physician  to 
William  III.,  and  Mary,  and  Queen  Anne,  at  an  expense  of 
forty  thousand  pounds,  and  which  is  sometimes  known  as  the 
Physic  Library;  —  in  this  is  a  reading-room,  where  all  new 
publications  are  received  and  classified  for  the  use  of  stu- 
dents ;  >the  Library  of  Wadham  College,  the  Library  of 
Queen's  College,  that  of  All  Souls  College,  and  that  of  Exe- 


STORY  OP  AN  OLD  PORTRAIT.  147 

ter  College,  in  a  new  and  elegant  Gothic  building,  erected  in 
1856,  all  affording  a  mine  of  wealth,  in  every  department  of 
art,  science,  and  belles-lettres. 

A  mine  of  literature,  indeed ;  and  the  liberality  of  some 
of  the  bequests  to  that  grand  university  indicates  the  enor- 
mous wealth  of  the  donors,  while  a  visit  even  to  portions  of 
these  superb  collections  will  dwarf  one's  ideas  of  what  they 
have  previously  considered  as  treasures  of  literature  or  grand 
collections  in  America. 

In  one  of  the  rooms  I  felt  almost  as  if  looking  at  an  old 
acquaintance,  as  I  was  shown  the  very  lantern  which  Guy 
Fawkes  had  in  his  hand  when  seized,  which  was  carefully 
preserved  under  a  glass  case,  and  was  like  the  one  in  the 
picture-books,  where  that  worthy  is  represented  as  being 
seized  by  the  man  in  the  high-peaked  hat,  who  is  descending 
the  cellar  stairs.  Another  relic  is  the  pair  of  gold-embroi- 
dered gauntlet  gloves  worn  by  Queen  Elizabeth  when  she 
visited  the  university,  which  are  also  carefully  kept  in  like 
manner. 

In  the  picture  gallery  attached  to  the  library  are  some  fine 
paintings,  and  among  those  that  attracted  my  attention  were 
two  portraits  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  looking  quite  unlike. 
Their  history  is  to  the  effect  that  the  college  had  purchased 
what  was  supposed  to  be  a  fine  old  original  portrait  of  the 
ill-fated  queen,  and  as  such  it  hung  in  its  gallery  for  a  number 
of  years,  till  at  length  a  celebrated  painter,  after  repeated  and 
close  examinations,  declared  to  the  astonished  dons  that 
doubtless  the  picture  was  an  original,  and  perhaps  one  of 
Mary,  but  that  it  had  been  re-costumed,  and  the  head-dress 
altered,  and  various  additions  made,  that  detracted  from  its 
merit  as  a  portrait.  The  painter  further  promised  to  make 
a  correct  copy  of  the  portrait  as  it  was,  then  to  skilfully 
erase  from  the  original,  without  injury,  the  disfiguring  addi- 
tions that  had  been  made,  leaving  it  as  when  first  painted. 
This  was  a  bold  proposition,  and  a  bold  undertaking;  but  the 
artist  was  one  of  eminence,  and  the  college  government, 
after  due  deliberation,  decided  to  let  him  make  the  trial.    He 


148  QUEEN   BESS   ON   MATRIMONY. 

did  so,  and  was  perfectly  successful,  as  the  two  pictures 
prove.  The  original,  divested  of  the  foreign  frippery  that 
had  been  added  in  the  way  of  costume  and  head  drapery, 
now  presents  a  sweet,  sad,  pensive  face,  far  more  beautiful, 
and  in  features  resembling  those  of  the  painting  of  the 
decapitated  head  of  the  queen  at  Abbotsford. 

Here  also  hung  a  representation  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  burned 
in  wood  with  a  hot  poker,  done  by  an  artist  many  years  ago 
—  a  style  of  warm  drawing  that  has  since  been  successfully 
done  by  the  late  Ball  Hughes,  the  celebrated  sculptor  in  Bos- 
ton, United  States.  Passing  on  beneath  the  gaunt,  ascetic 
countenance  of  Duns  Scotus,  which  looks  down  from  a  frame, 
beneath  which  an  inscription  tells  us  that  he  translated  the 
whole  Bible  without  food  or  drink,  and  died  in  1309,  we  come 
to  many  curious  relics  in  the  museum.  Among  others  was 
a  complete  set  of  carved  wooden  fruit  trenchers,  or  plates, 
that  once  belonged  to  Queen  Elizabeth.  Each  one  was  dif- 
ferently ornamented,  and  each  bore  upon  it,  in  quaint  Old 
English  characters,  a  verse  of  poetry,  and  most  of  these 
verses  had  in  them,  some  way  or  other,  a  slur  at  the  marriage 
state.  The  little  plates  were  said  to  be  quite  favorite  articles 
with  her  single-blessed  majesty.  So,  with  some  labor  and 
study,  I  transcribed  a  few  of  the  verses  for  American  eyes, 
and  here  they  are  :  — 

"If  thou  be  young,  then  marry  not  yet; 
If  thou  be  old,  thou  hast  more  wit ; 
For  young  men's  wives  will  not  be  taught, 
And  old  men's  wives  are  good  for  nought." 

How  many  "  old  men "  will  believe  the  last  line  of  this 
pandering  He  to  the  ruddy-headed  queen?  But  here  are 
others :  — 

"  If  that  a  bachelor  thou  be, 
Keep  thee  so  still ;  be  ruled  by  me ; 
Least  that  repentance,  come  too  late, 
Keward  thee  with  a  broken  pate." 


addison's  walk  and  tub  meadows.  119 

"  A  wife  that  marryeth  husbands  three 
Was  never  wedded  thereto  by  me ; 
I  would  my  wife  would  rather  die, 
Than  for  my  death  to  weep  or  cry." 


1  Thou  art  the  happiest  man  alive, 
For  every  thing  doth  make  thee  thrive ; 
Yet  may  thy  thrift  thy  master  be ; 
Therefore  take  thrift  and  all  for  me." 


"  Thou  goest  after  dead  men's  shoes, 
But  barefoot  thou  art  like  to  go. 
Content  thyself,  and  do  not  muse, 
1'or  fortune  saith  it  must  be  so." 

Emerging  all  unwillingly  from  the  charms  of  the  library, 
museum,  and  the  interesting  interiors  of  these  beautiful  old 
buildings,  we  stroll  out  to  that  delightful  place  of  oaks,  and 
elms,  and  pleasant  streams,  Christ  Church  Meadows,  walk  be- 
neath the  broad,  overarching  canopy  of  elms,  joining  together 
like  the  roof  of  a  cathedral,  that  shades  the  famous  "  Broad 
Walk;"  we  saunter  into  "Addison's  Walk,"  a  little  quiet 
avenue  among  the  trees,  running  down  towards  the  River 
Isis,  and  leaving  Magdalen  College,  —  which  was  Addison's 
college,  —  and  its  pretty,  rural  park,  we  come  to  the  beautiful 
arched  bridge  which  spans  the  River  Isis,  and,  crossing  it, 
have  a  superbly  picturesque  view  of  Oxford,  with  the  grace- 
ful, antique,  and  curious  spires  rising  above  the  city,  the 
swelling  dome  of  the  Radcliffe  Library,  and  the  great  tower 
of  Christ  Church. 

Here,  at  this  part  of  the  "  Meadows,"  is  the  place  where 
cricket  and  other  athletic  games  are  played.  Throngs  and 
groups  of  promenaders  are  in  every  direction,  of  a  pleasant 
afternoon,  and  groups  are  seated  upon  the  benches,  around 
the  trunks  of  the  elms,  from  which  they  gaze  upon  the  merry 
throng,  or  at  the  boats  on  the  Isis.  This  river,  which  is  a 
racing  and  practice  course  of  the  Oxonians,  appears  so 
absurdly  narrow  and  small  to  an  American  who  has  seen 
Harvard    students    battling    the   waves   of   the   boisterous 


150  BOATING   ON   THE   ISIS. 

Charles,  as  nearly  to  excite  ridicule  and  laughter.  We 
should  almost  denominate  it  a  large  brook  in  America.  For 
most  of  its  length  it  was  not  more  than  sixteen  or  eighteen 
feet  in  width.  The  Isis  is  a  branch  of  the  River  Cherwell, 
which  is  a  branch  of  the  Thames,  and  has  this  advantage  — 
the  rowers  can  never  suffer  much  from  rough  weather. 

Down  near  its  mouth,  where  it  widens  towards  the  Cher- 
well,  are  the  barges  of  the  different  boat  clubs  or  universities. 
They  are  enormous  affairs,  elegantly  ornamented  and  fitted 
up,  and  remind  one  of  the  great  state  barges  seen  in  the  pic- 
tures of  Venice,  where  the  Doge  is  marrying  the  Adriatic. 
Their  interiors  are  elegantly  upholstered,  and  contain  cabins 
or  saloons  for  the  reception  of  friends,  for  lounging,  or  for 
lunch  parties.  Farther  up  the  river,  and  we  see  the  various 
college  boats  practising  their  crews  for  forthcoming  trials  of 
skill.  These  boats  are  of  every  variety  of  size,  shape,  and 
fashion  —  two-oared,  six-oared,  eight-oared,  single  wherries 
shooting  here  and  there;  long  craft,  like  a  line  upon  the 
water,  with  a  crew  of  eight  athletes,  their  heads  bound  in 
handkerchiefs,  stripped  to  the  waist,  and  with  round,  hard- 
ened, muscular  arms,  bending  to  their  oars  with  a  long, 
almost  noiseless  sweep,  and  the  exact  regularity  of  a  chro- 
nometer balance. 

The  banks  were  alive  with  the  friends  of  the  different 
crews,  students  and  trainers,  who  ran  along,  keeping  up  with 
them,  prompting  and  instructing  them  how  to  pull,  and  per- 
fecting them  in  their  practice.  Every  now  and  then,  one  of 
these  college  boats,  Avith  its  uniformed  crew,  would  shoot 
past,  and  its  group  of  attendant  runners  upon  the  dike,  Avith 
their  watchful  eyes  marking  every  unskilful  movement. 

"Easy  there,  five."  "Pull  steady,  three."  "Straighten 
your  back  more,  two." 

"Shoulders  back  there,  four;  do  you  call  that  pulling? 
mind  your  practice.  Steady,  now  —  one,  two,  three ;  count, 
and  keep  time." 

"  Well  done,  four ;  a  good  pull  and  a  strong  pull." 

"  I'm  watching  you,  six ;  no  gammon.    Pull,  boys,  pull,"  &c. 


martyrs'  memorial.  151 

The  multitude  of  boats,  with  their  crews,  the  gayly  deco- 
rated barges,  the  merry  crowds  upon  the  pleasure-grounds, 
the  arched  bridge,  and  the  picturesque  background  of  grace- 
ful domes  and  spires,  combined  to  form  a  scene  which  will 
not  soon  fade  from  memory.  How  many  advantages  does 
the  Oxford  student  enjoy,  besides  the  admirable  opportunities 
for  study,  and  for  storing  the  mind,  from  the  treasure-houses 
that  are  ready  at  his  hand,  with  riches  that  cannot  be  stolen ; 
the  delicious  and  romantic  walks,  rural  parks,  and  grounds 
about  here;  the  opportunities  for  boating,  which  may  be 
extended  to  the  River  Cherwell,  where  the  greater  width 
affords  better  opportunities  for  racing  —  attrition  with  the 
best  mettle  of  the  nation ;  instruction  from  the  best  scholars ; 
and  a  dwelling-place  every  corner  of  which  is  rich  in  historic 
memories ! 

We  Avalk  to  the  place  in  front  of  Baliol  College,  where 
Cranmer,  Ridley,  and  Latimer  were  burned  at  the  stake. 
The  spot  is  marked  by  a  small  stone  cross  in  the  pavement ; 
and  a  short  distance  from  here,  in  an  open  square,  stands  an 
elaborately  decorated  Gothic  monument,  surmounted  by  a 
cross,  and  bearing  beneath  its  arches  the  statues  of  the  bish- 
ops, erected  about  twenty  years  ago,  and  is  denominated  the 
Martyrs'  Memorial.  But  adieu  to  Oxford ;  students,  libraries, 
colleges,  and  historical  relics  left  behind,  we  are  whirling 
over  the  railroad  on  our  way  up  to  London.  Always  say  up 
to  London,  in  England.  Going  to  London  is  always  going 
up,  no  matter  what  point  of  the  compass  you  start  from.  No 
true  Englishman  ever  talks  of  going  to  the  great  city  in  any 
way  except  going  "  up  "  to  it. 


152  LONDOX. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

The  train  glides  into  the  great  glass-roofed  station;  we 
are  in  London.  A  uniformed  porter  claps  his  hand  on  the 
door  of  every  first-class  carnage,  and  runs  by  its  side  till  the 
train  stops. 

The  railway  porters  in  attendance  at  each  railroad  station 
wear  the  uniform  of  the  company,  and  are  therefore  readily 
recognized.  They  assist  to  load  and  unload  the  luggage,  and 
in  the  absence  of  the  check  and  other  systems  Avhich  prevail 
in  America,  quite  a  large  force  is  required  in  the  great  sta- 
tions in  London  to  attend  to  the  luggage.  The  tourist  is  in- 
formed in  the  stations  of  some  companies,  by  conspicuous 
sign-boards  that  "the  servants  of  this  company  are  strictly 
forbidden  to  receive  any  fees  from  travellers,  and  any  one  of 
them  detected  in  doing  so  will  be  instantly  discharged." 
This,  however,  does  not  prevent  travellers  from  slyly  thrust- 
ing gratuities  upon  them ;  and  the  English  system  of  bribery 
is  so  thoroughly  ingrained  into  every  department  of  service, 
that  it  is  a  pretty  difficult  question  to  manage.  The  porters 
and  railway  officials  are  always  courteous  and  efficient ;  they 
know  their  place,  their  business,  and  accept  their  position; 
there  is  none  of  the  fallen-monarch  style  of  service  such  as 
we  receive  in  America,  nor  the  official  making  you  wait  upon 
him,  instead  of  his  waiting  upon  you. 

Men  in  England  who  accept  the  position  of  servants  expect 
to  do  the  duty  of  servants ;  in  America  the  "  baggage  master  " 
is  often  a  lordly,  independent  individual,  who  condescends  to 
hold  that  position  till  appointed  superintendent.  I  would  by 
no  means  condemn  the  American  ambition  to  gain  by  meritori- 
ous effort  the  positions  that  are  open  to  all  ranks,  and  that 
may  be  gained  by  the  exercise  of  talent  and  ability,  even  if 
the  possessor  have  not  wealth;  but  it  is  always  pleasant  to 


FEEING    SERVANTS.  153 

have  any  species  of  service,  that  one  contracts  for,  well  done, 
and  in  England  the  crowded  state  of  all  branches  of  employ- 
ment and  trade  makes  it  worth  workmen's  while  to  bring 
forward  efficiency  and  thorough  knowledge  of  their  trade  as 
a  leading  recommendation.  But  the  sixpence  and  the  shil- 
ling in  England  are  keys  that  will  remove  obstacles  that 
the  traveller  never  dreams  of.  Let  the  raw  American,  how- 
ever, gradually  and  cautiously  learn  their  use,  under  the 
tutelage  of  an  expert  if  possible ;  otherwise  he  will  be  giving 
shillings  where  only  sixpences  are  exj>ected,  and  sixpences 
where  threepences  are  abundant  compensation. 

What  American  would  think  of  offering  twenty-five  cents 
to  the  sergeant  at  arms  of  the  Boston  State  House  for 
showing  him  the  legislative  hall,  or  twelve  or  fifteen  cents 
to  a  railroad  conductor  for  obtaining  a  seat  for  him  ?  Both 
individuals  would  consider  themselves  insulted ;  but  in  Eng- 
land the  offering  is  gratefully  received.  Indeed,  at  certain 
castles  and  noted  show-places  in  Great  Britain,  the  imposing 
appearance  of  an  official  in  uniform,  or  the  gentlemanly  full 
dress  of  a  butler  or  upper  servant,  until  I  became  acquainted 
with  the  customs  of  the  country,  sometimes  made  me  doubt 
whether  it  would  not  be  resented  if  I  should  offer  him  half  a 
sovereign,  till  I  saw  some  Englishmen  give  him  a  shilling  or 
half  crown,  which  was  very  gratefully  received.  But  to  our 
arrival.  First  class  passengers  generally  want  cabs,  if  they 
are  not  Londoners  with  their  own  carriages  in  waiting,  and 
the  railway  porters  know  it.  First  and  second  class  pas- 
sengers are  more  likely  to  disburse  shillings  and  sixpences 
than  third,  and  so  the  porter  makes  haste  to  whisk  open  the 
door  of  your  compartment  in  the  first  class,  and,  as  he  touches' 
his  hat,  says,  "Luggage,  sir?" 

"  Yes ;  a  black  trunk  on  top,  and  this  portmanteau."  Valise 
is  a  word  they  don't  understand  the  meaning  of  in  England. 

The  cabman  whom  the  porter  has  signalled  in  obedience 
to  your  demand,  has  driven  up  as  near  the  train  as  he  is  per- 
mitted to  come.  He  is  engaged.  The  wink,  or  nocl,  or  up- 
raised finger  from  the  porter,  whom  he  knows,  has  told  him 


154  RAILWAY    P0ETEES. 

that.  You  ju  mp  out,  in  the  throng  of  hundreds  of  passengers, 
into  the  brilliantly  lighted  station,  stiff  with  long  riding,  con- 
fused with  the  rush,  bustle,  noise,  and  lights ;  but  the  porter, 
into  whose  hand,  as  it  rested  on  the  car-door,  you  slyly 
slipped  a  sixpence  or  shilling,  attends  to  your  case  instanter. 
He  does  not  lose  sight  of  you  or  your  luggage,  nor  suffer  you 
to  be  hustled  a  moment ;  he  shoulders  your  luggage,  escorts 
you  to  the  cab,  mayhap  assisted  by  another ;  pushes  people 
out  of  the  way,  hoists  the  luggage  with  a  jerk  to  the  roof  of 
the  cab,  sings  out,  "  Langham's  Bill,"  to  the  driver,  and  yon 

are  off. 

The  cab-driver,  who  has  an  understanding  with  the  porter, 
when  he  returns  to  the  station  "divys"  with  him  on  the 
shilling.  All  this  may  be  wrong,  but  is  one  of  the  customs 
of  the  country.  To  be  sure,  the  London  railway  porters  will 
be  polite,  call  a  cab  for  you,  and  pack  you  into  it,  without 
any  fee  whatever ;  but  you  will,  if  you  have  not  learned  how 
'to  "  tip,"  wonder  how  it  was  that  so  many  persons  seem  to 
get  off  in  cabs  so  much  quicker  than  you,  and  why,  in  the 
miscellaneous  mass  of  baggage  that  the  porters  are  unload- 
ing from  the  top  of  the  carriage,  Jack  tells  Bob  to  "pass 
down  the  white  portmanter "  first,  when  your  black  one  is 
much  handier  to  get  at. 

But  away  we  rattle  through  the  streets  of  London,  on,  on. 
How  odd  it  seemed  to  see  such  names  as  Strand,  Cheapside, 
Holborn,  Hatton  Garden,  flash  out  occasionally  upon  a  corner 
near  a  gas-light !  What  a  never-ending  stream  of  vehicles ! 
What  singularly  London  names  there  were  over  the  shop 
doors!  What  English-looking  announcements  on  the  dead 
walls  and  places  where  bills  were  posted !  London  —  well,  at 
night,  seen  from  a  cab  window,  it  was  not  unlike  many  parts 
of  New  York,  only  it  seemed  like  two  or  three  New  Yorks 
rolled  into  one.  On  we  went  miles  through  crowded  streets, 
Regent  Street,  Oxford  Street,  and  at  last,  at  the  West  End, 
pulled  up  at  the  Langham  Hotel,  a  house  that  nearly  all 
freshly-arrived  Americans,  especially  during  the  season  of 
the  French  Exposition,  when  so  many  went  over,  generally 


LONDON   HOTELS.  155 

went  to  first  on  arrival  in  London,  and  generally  very  soon 
changed  their  quarters.  It  was  then  but  recently  built.  It 
is  a  magnificent  edifice  in  the  fashionable  part  of  London, 
and  was  understood  to  be  conducted  on  the  American  plan, 
but  proved  to  be  like  a  northern  man  with  southern  prin- 
ciples, with  few  of  the  good  and  all  of  the  bad  characteristics 
of  both. 

America  is  the  paradise  of  hotels  —  that  is,  the  large  cities 
of  America ;  but  in  London,  the  newly-arrived  American  will 
first  be  vexed  at  the  utter  incapability  of  the  people  to  keejD 
a  hotel,  and  next  amused  at  the  persistent  clinging  to  old  cus- 
toms, and  the  absurd  attempts  made,  by  those  who  carry  them 
on,  to  do  so.  The  American  hotel  clerk,  who  can  answer 
fifty  questions  in  a  breath,  who  can  tell  you  what  the  bill  of 
performance  is  at  all  the  theatres,  at  what  hour  the  trains 
over  the  different  roads  start,  what  is  the  best  brand  of  wine, 
what  to  do,  where  to  go,  how  much  everything  costs,  recol- 
lects your  name,  is  a  gentleman  in  dress  and  address,  and 
whom  you  mutually  respect  as  a  man  of  quick  preception, 
prompt  decision,  and  tenacious  memory,  is  an  official  unknown 
in  London.  You  are  met  in  that  city  by  the  head  porter, 
who  answers  questions  about  trains  (by  aid  of  Bradshaw's 
Guide),  will  receive  parcels  for  you,  call  a  cab,  or  see  that  your 
luggage  is  sent  up  or  down ;  but  as  for  city  sights,  where  to 
go,  what  to  see,  when  the  opera  or  theatre  begins,  how  to  get 
to  Richmond  Hill,  or  Kew  Gardens,  or  Windsor  Castle,  he  is 
profoundly  ignorant. 

In  a  small  enclosure  called  a  bar  is  a  woman  who  books 
your  name,  keej^s  an  account  of  everything  you  have,  mak- 
ing a  charge  of  each  item  separately,  down  to  a  cigar,  neces- 
sitating an  enormous  amount  of  book-keeping.  In  this  bar 
are  others  who  draw  ale,  or  extract  spirits  from  casks  ranged 
in  the  enclosure,  as  they  may  be  ordered  by  guests  in  their 
own  room  or  the  "coffee-room,"  into  carefully-marked  meas- 
ures, so  as  to  be  sure  that  no  one  gets  beyond  his  sixpence 
worth  of  whiskey,  or  gin,  or  brandy ;  but  there  is  one  thing 
certain :  the  guests,  as  a  general  thing,  get  a  far  better  quality 


156  CLUMSY   MANAGEMENT. 

of  liquor  than  we  in  America,  where  it  is  next  to  an  impos- 
sibility to  get  even  a  good  article  of  that  great  American, 
national  drink,  whiskey,  pure  and  unadulterated. 

These  bar-maids  can  give  you  no  information  except  about 
the  price  of  rooms,  meals,  and  refreshments.  Next  comes 
the  head  waiter,  who,  with  the  porter,  appears  to  "  run  "  the 
hotel.  This  worthy  must  be  feed  to  insure  attention.  If  you 
are  a  single  man,  you  can  dine  well  enough  in  the  coffee- 
room,  if  you  order  your  dinner  at  a  certain  time  in  advance. 
However,  the  great  London  hotels  are  slowly  becoming 
Americanized  in  some  departments :  one  improvement  is 
that  of  having  what  is  called  a  "  ladies'  coffee-room,"  i.  e.,  a 
public  dining-room,  and  a  table  d'hote,  and  not  compelling  a 
gentleman  and  wife  to  dine  in  solemn  state  in  a  private 
room,  under  the  inspection  of  a  waiter.  Between  stated 
hours,  anything  in  the  magnificent  bills  of  fare,  for  the  three 
meals,  is  ready  on  demand  at  an  American  hotel ;  for  instance, 
the  guest  may  sit  down  to  breakfast  at  any  time  between  six 
and  eleven  ;  to  dinner  at  one,  three,  and  five ;  to  tea  at  six  to 
eight,  and  supper  ten  to  twelve ;  and  anything  he  orders  will 
be  served  instanter:  the  meals  at  those  times  are  always 
ready.  In  London,  nothing  is  ever  ready,  and  everything 
must  be  ordered  in  advance. 

It  is  a  matter  of  positive  wonderment  to  me  that  the 
swarms  of  Englishmen,  whom  one  meets  in  the  well-kept 
hotels  of  Berne,  Lucerne,  Wiesbaden,  Baden  Baden,  &c,  can, 
after  enjoying  their  comforts  and  conveniences,  endure  the 
clumsy  manner  of  hotel-keeping,  and  the  discomforts  of  the 
London  hotels,  or  that  the  landlords  of  the  latter  can  persist 
in  hanging  back  so  obstinately  from  adopting  the  latest  im- 
provements. 

The  new  and  large  hotels,  however,  are  a  great  improve- 
ment on  the  old  style,  and  the  best  thing  for  a  fresh  American 
tourist  to  do,  before  going  to  London,  is  to  get  some  fellow- 
countryman,  who  has  had  experience  in  the  hotels  and  lodg- 
ings of  that  metropolis,  to  "  post  him  up  "  as  to  which  will 
the  best  suit  his  taste  and  desires. 


SIGHTS   IN   LONDON    STREETS.  157 

My  first  iiiglit  in  London,  spent  at  the  Langham,  which  is 
at  the  West  End,  or  fashionable  quarter,  was  anything  but  a 
quiet  one;  the  hotel  being,  as  it  were,  right  in  the  track 
between  various  resorts  of  the  aristocracy  and  their  resi- 
dences, and  the  time  the  height  of  the  season.  There  was  one 
unceasing  roar  of  private  carriages  and  cabs  from  ten  P.  M. 
till  three  A.  M.,  which  banished  sleep  from  my  eyelids,  and 
made  me  long  for  the  quiet  of  the  well-kept  little  English  and 
Scotch  country  inns  that  I  had  previously  been  enjoying. 

Accommodations  were  sought  and  found  in  a  less  fashiona- 
ble, but  far  more  central  part  of  the  city,  where  more  comfort, 
attention,  and  convenience  were  obtained  at  a  less  rate  than 
at  this  English  hotel  on  the  American  plan ;  and  it  was  not 
long  ere  I  found  that  my  own  experience  at  Langham's  was 
that  of  numerous  other  Americans,  and  that  the  pleasantest 
way  to  live  in  London  is  "  in  apartments,"  if  one  stays  there 
any  length  of  time  —  that  is,  furnished  lodgings.  The  Eng- 
lish themselves,  when  visiting  London,  stay  with  a  friend  if 
possible,  always  avoiding  a  hotel ;  and  it  is  probably  the  ad- 
here ace  to  this  old  custom,  by  the  better  classes,  that  causes 
the  indifference  to  the  quality  of  what  is  furnished  for  public 
accommodation  in  their  own  capital. 

I  thought  my  experiences  in  New  York  streets  had  pre- 
pared me  for  London;  but  on  emerging  into  the  London 
streets  for  the  first  time  I  found  my  mistake.  I  was  fairly 
stunned  and  bewildered  by  the  tremendous  rush  of  humanity 
that  poured  down  through  Oxford  Street,  through  Holborn, 
on  to  the  city,*  or  otherwise  down  towards  White  Chapel, 
Lombard  Street,  the  Bank,  and  the  Exchange. 

Great  omnibuses,  drawn  by  three  horses  abreast,  thundered 
over  the  pavement;  four-wheel  cabs,  or  "four-wheelers,"  a 
sort  of  compressed  American  carriages,  looking  as  though 
resuscitated  from  the  last  stages  of  dissolution,  rattled  here 
and  there ;  the  Hansom  cabs,  those  most  convenient  of  all 
carriages,  dashed  in  and  out,  hither  and  thither,  in  the  crowd 
of  vehicles;  great  brewery  drays,  with  horses  like  elephants, 
plodded  along  with  their  loads  ;  the  sidewalks  swarmed  with 


158  OMNIBUSES. 

a  moving  mass  of  humanity,  and  many  were  the  novelties 
that  met  my  curious  eye. 

The  stiff,  square  costume  of  the  British  merchant ;  little 
boys  of  ten,  with  beaver  hats  like  men ;  Lord  Dundrearys  with 
eye-glasses  such  as  I  had  never  seen  before,  except  upon  the 
stage  at  the  theatre ;  ticket  porters  with  their  brass  labels 
about  their  necks ;  policemen  in  their  uniform ;  officers  and 
soldiers  in  theirs ;  all  sorts  of  costermongers  with  everything 
conceivable  to  sell,  and  all  sorts  of  curious  vehicles,  some 
with  wood  enough  in  them  for  three  of  a  similar  kind  in 
America. 

The  drivers  of  the  London  omnibuses  feel  the  dignity  of 
their  position,  —  they  do.  It  is  the  conductor  who  solicits 
passengers,  takes  the  pay,  and  regulates  the  whole  business 
of  the  establishment.  The  driver,  or  rather  the  "  coachman," 
drives ;  he  wears  a  neat  top-coat,  a  beaver  hat,  and  a  pair  of 
driving  gloves ;  he  drives  with  an  air.  You  can  attract  his 
attention  from  the  sidewalk,  and  he  will  "  pull  up,"  but  he 
does  it  with  a  sort  of  calm  condescension ;  the  conductor  or  cad, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  ever  on  the  alert ;  his  eyes  are  in  every 
direction ;  he  signals  a  passenger  in  the  crowd  invisible  to  all 
but  him ;  he  continually  shouts  the  destination  of  his  vehicle, 
but  sometimes  in  a  patois  unintelligible  except  to  the  native 
Londoner.  As  for  instance,  I  was  once  standing  in  Holborn, 
waiting  for  a  'bus  for  the  Bank ;  one  passed,  which  from  its 
inscription  I  did  not  recognize,  the  conductor  ejaculating,  as 
he  looked  on  every  side,  "  Abink-Wychiple,  Binkwychi- 
ple,"  when  suddenly  he  detected  us  in  the  throng,  and 
marked  us  as  strangers  looking  for  a  'bus ;  in  a  twinkling  he 
was  down  from  his  perch,  and  upon  the  sidewalk. 

"  JZinkwychiple  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  go  to  the  Bank,"  said  I. 

"  All  right,  sir ;  'ere  you  are." 

He  gave  a  shrill  whistle,  which  caused  the  driver  who  was 
sixty  feet  away,  to  stop,  hurried  us  both  into  the  vehicle, 
slammed  to  the  door,  and,  taking  off  his  hat  with  mock  polite- 
ness to  a  rival  'bus  that  had  nearly  overtaken  his,  said,  "  Can't 


CABS   AND    CAB   DKIVEKS.  159 

vait  for  you,  sir :  drive  on,  Bob ; "   and  on  we  went  to  our 
destination. 

Another  'bus  conductor  puzzled  me  by  shouting  "  Sim- 
mery-Ex,  Simmery-Ex,  Simmery-Ex"  until  the  expression 
was  translated  into  "  St.  Mary's  Axe,"  the  locality  alluded 
to.  These  conductors  are  generally  sharp,  quick-witted,  and 
adepts  at  "  chaff"  and  blackguardism,  and  it  is  good  advice 
to  the  uninitiated  to  beware  "  chaffing "  them,  as  in  nine  cases 
out  of  ten  the  cad  gets  the  best  of  it. 

The  Hansom  cabs  are  the  best  and  most  convenient  vehi- 
cles that  can  possibly  be  used  for  short  excursions  about  the 
city.  A  shilling  will  carry  you  a  smart  fifteen  minutes'  ride, 
the  legal  price  being  sixpence  a  mile,  but  nobody  ever  ex- 
pects to  give  a  cabman  any  less  than  a  shilling  for  ever  so 
short  a  ride.  Eighteen  pence  is  readily  accepted  for  a  three 
mile  trip,  and  it  costs  no  more  for  two  persons  than  one. 
There  being  nothing  between  the  passenger  and  the  horse 
but  the  dasher,  as  the  driver  is  perched  up  behind,  an  unob- 
structed view  is  had  as  you  whirl  rapidly  through  the  crowded 
streets ;  and  the  cheapness  of  the  conveyance,  added  to  its 
adaptability  for  the  purpose  that  it  is  used,  makes  an  Ameri- 
can acknowledge  that  in  this  matter  the  English  are  far  in 
advance  of  us,  and  also  to  wonder  why  these  convenient 
vehicles  have  not  displaced  the  great,  cumbersome,  two-horse 
carriages  which  even  a  single  individual  is  compelled  to  take 
in  an  American  city  if  he  is  in  a  hurry  to  go  to  the  railway 
station  or  to  execute  a  commission,  and  which  cost  nearly 
as  much  for  a  trip  of  a  mile  as  would  engage  a  Hansom  in 
London  for  half  a  day. 

There  has  been  much  said  in  the  London  papers  about  the 
impositions  of  the  cab-drivers;  but  I  must  do  them  the  justice 
to  say  I  saw  little  or  none  of  it :  making  myself  acquainted 
with  the  legal  rate,  I  found  it  generally  accepted  without 
hesitation.  If  I  was  in  doubt  about  the  distance,  instead  of 
adopting  the  English  plan  of  keeping  the  extra  sixpence,  I 
gave  it,  and  so  cheaply  saved  disputes. 

Coming  out  from  the  theatres,  you  find  privileged  porters, 


160  THE    SALESROOM    OE    THE   WORLD. 

who  have  the  right  of  calling  cabs  for  those  who  want  them, 
besides  numerous  unprivileged  ones;  boys,  who  will  dart 
out  to  where  the  cabs  are,  —  they  are  not  allowed  to  stand  in 
front  of  the  theatre,  —  and  fetch  you  one  in  an  instant.  The 
driver  never  leaves  his  seat,  but  your  messenger  opens  the 
cab,  and  shuts  you  in,  shouts  your  direction  to  the  driver,  and 
touches  his  cap,  grateful  for  the  penny  or  two  pence  that  you 
reward  him  with. 

What  a  never-ending  source  of  amusement  the  London 
streets  are  to  the  newly-arrived  American  —  their  very  names 
historical.  Here  we  are  in  Regent  Street,  where  you  can 
buy  everything ;  the  four  quarters  of  the  world  seem  to  have 
been  laid  under  contribution  to  supply  it :  here  are  magnifi- 
cent jewelry  stores,  all  ablaze  with  rich  and  artistically-set 
gems  and  jewels ;  here  a  huge  magazine  of  nothing  but  India 
shawls  and  scarfs  —  an  excellent  place  to  buy  a  camel's  hair 
shawl.  Ladies,  save  your  money  till  you  go  to  London,  for 
that  pride  of  woman's  heart  comes  into  England  duty  free,  and 
from  fifty  to  four  hundred  dollars  may  be  saved,  according  to 
the  grade  purchased,  on  the  price  charged  in  America.  In 
this  India  store  one  could  buy  from  scarfs  at  five  shillings  to 
shawls  at  four  hundred  guineas. 

Then  there  were  the  splendid  dry  goods  stores,  the  win- 
dows most  magnificently  dressed ;  shoe  stores,  with  those 
peculiarly  English  "  built,"  —  that  is  the  only  word  that  will 
express  it,  so  fashioned  by  rule  into  structures  of  leather  were 
they,  —  English  built  shoes  of  all  sizes  in  the  window,  and 
shoes  that  will  outwear  three  pairs  of  Yankee-made  affairs, 
unless  one  goes  to  some  of  the  very  choice  establishments,  or 
to  foreigners  at  home,  who,  knowing  how  rare  faithful  work 
and  good  material  are  in  their  business,  charge  a  tremendous 
premium  for  both  articles.  I  think  for  service,  ease  to  the 
foot,  and  real  economy,  there  is  no  boot  or  shoe  like  those  by 
the  skilled  London  makers  ;  the  price  charged  is  only  about 
twenty-five  per  cent,  less  than  in  America  ;  but  an  article  of 
solid,  substantial,  honest  British  workmanship  is  furnished, 
and  any  one  who  has  ever  bought  any  portion  of  his  ward- 


LONDON    SHOPS.  1G1 

robe  of  an  English  maker,  knows  the  satisfaction  experienced 
in  wearing  articles  made  upon  honor ;  the  quality,  stitches, 
and  workmanship  can  be  depended  upon. 

But  what  is  in  other  shops  ? 

O,  everything ;  elegant  displays  of  gentlemen's  furnishing 
goods,  of  shirts,  under-clothing,  socks  and  gloves,  of  a  variety, 
fineness,  and  beauty  I  had  never  seen  before ;  gloves,  fans, 
fancy  goods,  China  ware ;  toy  shops,  shops  of  English  games, 
cricket  furniture,  bats,  balls,  &c. ;  elegant  wine  and  preserve 
magazines  —  where  were  conserves,  J3reserves,  condiments, 
pickles,  cheeses,  dried  fruits,  dried  meats,  and  appetizing  deli- 
cacies from  every  part  of  the  globe,  enough  to  drive  an  epicure 
crazy.  At  these  great  establishments  are  put  up  the  "  ham- 
pers "  that  go  to  supply  parties  who  go  to  the  races  or  picnics. 
You  order  a  five-shilling  or  five-pound  hamper,  and  are  sup- 
plied accordingly  —  meat-pies,  cold  tongues,  fowls,  game, 
wines,  ales,  pickles.  There  are  English  pickles,  Dutch  saur 
krout,  French  pate  de  fois  gras,  Finnian  haddock,  German 
sausages,  Italian  macaroni,  American  buffalo  tongues,  and 
Swiss  cheeses,  in  stacks.  That  is  what  astonishes  the  Amer- 
ican —  the  enormous  stock  in  these  retail  establishments,  and 
the  immense  variety  of  styles  of  each  article ;  but  it  should 
be  remembered  that  this  is  the  market  of  the  world,  and  the 
competition  here  is  sharp.  Go  into  a  store  for  a  pair  of 
gloves,  even,  mention  the  size  you  desire,  and  the  salesman 
will  show  you  every  variety  in  kid,  French  dogskin,  cloth,  and 
leather ;  for  soiree,  promenade,  driving,  travelling,  and  every 
species  of  use,  and  different  styles  and  kinds  for  each  use. 
The  salesmen  understand  their  business,  which  is  to  sell 
goods  ;  they  are  polite,  they  suggest  wants,  they  humor  your 
merest  whim  in  hue,  pattern,  style,  or  fancy ;  they  make  no 
rude  endeavor  to  force  goods  upon  you,  but  are  determined 
you  shall  have  just  what  you  want;  wait  upon  you  with 
assiduous  politeness,  and  seem  to  have  been  taught  their 
occupation. 

One  misses  that  sort  of  independent  nonchalance  with 
which  an  American  retail  salesman  throws  out  one  article 
11 


162  LONDON    SHOPKEEPERS. 

at  a  time,  talking  politics  or  of  the  weather  to  you,  while  you 
yourself  turn  over  the  goods,  place  them,  and  adjust  them  for 
the  effect  of  light  or  shade,  as  he  indolently  looks  on,  or  per- 
sistently battles  in  argument  with  you,  that  what  he  has 
shown  you  is  what  you  ought  to  have,  instead  of  what  you 
demand  and  want ;  also  that  American  style  of  indifference, 
or  independence,  as  to  whether  you  purchase  or  not,  and  the 
making  of  you  —  as  you  ascertain  after  shopping  in  London — 
do  half  the  salesman's  work.  The  London  shopman  under- 
stands that  deference  is  the  best  card  in  the  pack,  and  plays 
it  skilfully.  He  attends  to  you  assiduously ;  he  is  untiring  to 
suit  your  taste.  If  he  sells  you  a  ribbon,  the  chances  are  that 
you  find,  before  leaving,  you  have  purchased  gloves,  fan,  and 
kerchief  besides,  and  it  is  not  until  you  finally  take  your  de- 
parture that  he  ventures  to  remark  that  "  it  is  a  very  fine 
day." 

Many  of  the  London  first-class  establishments,  such  as  tai- 
lors, furnishing-goods  dealers,  umbrella  stores,  shoemakers, 
cheesemongers,  or  fancy-grocery  stores,  have  two  stores,  one 
in  Regent  Street,  the  fashionable  quarter,  and  one  in  the  city, 
say  down  towards  the  Bank,  in  Threadneedle  Street,  Poultry, 
Cheapside,  &c.  The  "  city  "  or  down-town  store  of  the  same 
firm,  it  is  well  known  to  Londoners,  will  sell  the  same  goods 
and  same  articles  at  least  five  per  cent,  cheaper  than  the  up- 
town Regent  or  Oxford  Street  one  will. 

Besides  serviceable  boots  and  shoes,  gentlemen's  wearing- 
apparel,  and  under-clothing,  buy  your  umbrellas  in  England. 
They  make  this  article  splendidly,  doubtless  from  its  being  an 
article  of  such  prime  necessity.  The  English  umbrella  is 
made  light,  shapely,  and  strong,  of  the  best  materials,  —  if  you 
get  them  of  a  dealer  of  reputation,  Sangster's,for  instance, — 
they  will  keep  their  shape  until  completely  worn  out. 

While  in  London,  purchase  whatever  trunks,  portmanteaus, 
or  valises  you  may  need  for  your  continental  tour.  London 
is  the  paradise  of  this  species  of  merchandise,  and  in  Paris 
you  will  learn  too  late  that  trunk-making  is  not  a  Frenchman's 
art,  though  if  you  reach  Vienna,  the  headquarters  of  the  ele- 


HINTS   TO   BUYEKS.  1G3 

gant  Russia  leatlicr  work,  you  will  find  articles  there  in  the 
travelling-bag  line,  at  very  moderate  prices,  that  will  enable 
you  to  make  the  most  distinguished  carpet-bagger  in  your 
own  country  die  of  envy. 

It  is  said  that  London  is  headquarters  for  gentlemen's 
clothing,  and  Paris  for  ladies'.  London  sets  the  fashion  for 
gentlemen  in  dress,  and  Paris  that  for  the  gentler  sex,  al- 
though in  the  article  of  men's  hats,  gloves,  and  dress  boots,  I  be- 
lieve the  Frenchman  has  "  the  inside  of  the  track."  A  French 
boot  is  made  for  grace  and  beauty,  an  English  one  for  service 
and  comfort.  An  English  hat,  like  an  English  dog-cart,  has 
too  much  "  timber "  in  it,  and  a  French  glove  is  unapj)roach- 
able.  Many  Americans  leave  their  measure,  and  now  order 
their  clothes  of  Poole  &  Co.,  Sackville  Street,  or  Creed  &  Co., 
Conduit  Street,  Bond  Street,  both  crack  West  End  tailors. 
Others  order  of  some  of  the  city  tailors  down  town,  who, 
doubtless,  suit  them  equally  well,  and  use  just  as  good  mate- 
rials, having  the  custom  of  some  of  the  old  particular  London 
merchants,  who  like  to  step  into  a  solid,  old-fashioned,  down- 
in-the-city  store,  where  their  predecessors  traded,  —  like  Sam 
Hodgkinson's,  in  Threadneedle  Street,  opposite  Merchant  Tai- 
lors' Hall,  —  and  buy  at  an  old  established  stand,  a  place 
that  has  the  aroma  of  age  about  it.  The  older  a  business 
stand,  the  more  value  it  seems  to  possess  in  customers'  eyes ; 
and  there  is  something  in  it.  For  a  store  that  has  built  up  a 
reputation,  and  been-  known  as  a  good  boot,  tailor's,  or  hat 
store,  with  that  stamp  of  indorsement,  "  established  in  1798," 
or  eighteen  hundred  and  something,  more  than  forty  years 
ago,  is  about  as  good  an  indorsement  as  "  bootmaker  to  the 
Duke  of  Cambridge,"  or  Lord  Stuckup,  and  a  reputation 
which  the  occupant  of  said  establishment  does  not  trifle  with, 
but  labors  to  preserve  and  increase,  as  a  part  of  his  capital 
and  stock  in  trade. 

Your  English  tailor  of  reputation  is  rather  more  careful 
than  the  American  one.  He  makes  an  appointment,  and  tries 
the  garment  on  you  after  it  is  cut  out,  comes  to  your  hotel,  if 
you  are  a  stranger  and  cannot  come  to  him,  to  do  so,  and  his 


164  SHOPPING   IN   LONDON. 

two  workmen  who  wait  upon  you,  measure,  snip,  mould,  and 
adapt  their  work,  appear  to  take  as  much  pride  in  their  occu- 
pation as  a  sculptor  or  artist.  Indeed,  they  consider  them- 
selves "  artists "  in  their  line ;  for  Creed  &  Co's  card,  which 
lies  before  me  as  I  write,  announces  "  H.  Creed  &  Co."  to  be 
"  Artistes  in  Draping  the  Real  Figure,"  and  gives  the  cash-on- 
delivery  purchaser  ten  per  cent,  advantage  over  the  credit 
customer. 

Furs  are  another  article  that  can  be  bought  very  cheap  in 
London.  But  I  must  not  devote  too  much  space  to  shopping; 
suffice  it  to  say  that  the  windows  of  the  great  magazines  of 
merchandise  in  Oxford  and  Regent  Streets  form  in  themselves 
a  perfect  museum  of  the  products  of  the  world,  —  and  I  have 
spent  hours  in  gazing  in  at  them,  —  for  the  art  of  window- 
dressing  is  one  which  is  well  understood  by  their  proprietors. 

A  volume  might  be  written  —  in  fact,  volumes  have  been 
written  —  about  London  streets,  and  the  sights  seen  in  them. 
It  seemed  so  odd  to  be  standing  opposite  old  Temple  Bar,  on 
the  Strand,  to  see  really  those  names  we  had  so  often  read  of, 
to  wonder  how  long  the  spirit  of  American  improvement 
would  suffer  such  a  barrier  as  that  Bar  to  interrupt  the  tre- 
mendous rush  of  travel  that  jams,  and  crowds,  and  surges 
through  and  around  it.  Here  is  Prout's  tooth-brush  store 
close  at  hand.  Everybody  knows  that  Prout's  brushes  are 
celebrated.  We  step  in  to  price  some.  "  One  shilling  each, 
sir."  You  select  twelve,  give  him  a  sovereign.  He  takes 
out  ten  shillings.  "  The  price,  sir,  at  wholesale."  The  repu- 
tation of  that  place  would  suffer,  in  the  proprietor's  opinion, 
if  he  had  allowed  a  stranger  to  have  gone,  even  if  satisfied, 
away,  and  that  stranger  had  afterwards  ascertained  that  the 
price  per  dozen  was  less,  and  that  any  one  could  purchase  less 
than  he.     So  much  for  the  honor  of  "  old-established  "  places. 

We  go  up  through  Chancery  Lane,  —  how  often  we  have 
read  of  it,  and  what  lots  of  banisters'  chambers  and  legal 
stationers  there  are,  —  out  into  "High  Holborn,"  Holbom 
Hill,  or  "  Eye  Obun,"  as  the  Londoners  call  it.  What  a  rush 
of 'buses,  and  drays,  and  cabs,  and  Hansoms,  and  everything 


BRITISH   BUSINESS    STYLE.  1G5 

But  lot  us  go.  Where  is  it  one  goes  first  on  arrival  in  Lon- 
don ?  If  he  is  an  American,  the  first  place  he  goes  to  is  his 
banker,  to  get  that  most  necessary  to  keep  him  going.  So 
hither  let  us  wend  our  way. 

If  there  is  any  one  thing  needed  in  England  besides  hotels 
on  the  American  plan,  it  is  an  American  banking-house  of 
capital  and  reputation  in  the  city  of  London ;  a  house  that  un- 
derstands the  wants  and  feelings  of  Americans,  and  that  will 
cater  to  them ;  a  house  that  will  not  hold  them  off  at  arm's 
length,  as  it  were ;  one  that  is  not  of  such  huge  wealth  as  to 
treat  American  customers  with  surly  British  routine  and  red 
tape ;  a  house  that  ivants  American  business,  and  that  will  do 
it  at  the  lowest  rate  of  percentage.  In  fact,  some  of  the 
partners,  at  least,  should  be  Americans  in  heart  and  feeling, 
and  not  Anglicized  Americans. 

The  great  banking-house  of  Baring  Brothers  &  Co.,  whose 
correspondents  and  connections  are  in  every  part  of  the 
world,  —  whose  superscriptions  I  used  to  direct  in  a  big, 
round  hand,  upon  thin  envelopes,  when  I  was  a  boy  in  a  mer- 
chant's counting-room,  and  whose  name  is  as  familiar  in  business 
mouths  as  household  words,  —  it  would  be  supposed  would 
be  found  occupying  a  structure  for  their  banking-house  like 
some  of  the  palatial  edifices  on  Broadway,  or  the  solid  granite 
buildings  of  State  Street,  where  you  may  imagine  that  you 
could  find  out  about  everything  you  wished  to  know  about 
London ;  what  the  sights  were  to  see ;  which  was  the  best 
hotel  for  Americans ;  what  you  ought  to  pay  for  things ;  how 
to  get  to  Windsor  Castle,  or  the  Tower,  &c.  Of  course  they 
would  have  American  papers,  know  the  news  from  America ; 
and  you,  a  young  tourist,  not  knowing  Lombard  Street  from 
Pall  Mall,  would,  on  presentation  of  your  letter  of  credit,  be 
greeted  by  some  member  of  the  firm,  and  asked  how  you  did, 
what  sort  of  a  passage  you  had  over,  could  they  do  anything 
for  you,  all  in  American  style  of  doing  things;  but,  bless 
your  raw,  inexperienced,  unsophisticated  soul,  you  have  yet 
to  learn  the  solid,  British,  square-cut,  high  shirt-collar  style 
of  doing  "  business." 


166  A  LONDON  BANKING  HOUSE. 

I  have  roared  with  laughter  at  the  discomfiture  of  many  a 
young  American  tourist  who  expected  something  of  the  cor- 
dial style  and  the  great  facilities '  such  as  the  young  American 
houses  of  Bowles  &  Co.  or  Drexel  &  Co.  afford,  of  these 
great  London  bankers.  The  latter  are  civil  enough,  but,  as 
previously  mentioned,  they  do  " business"  and  on  the  rigid 
English  plan ;  they  will  cash  your  check  less  commission,  an- 
swer a  question,  or  send  a  ticket-porter  to  show  you  the  way 
out  into  Lombard  Street,  or,  perhaps,  if  you  send  your  card  in 
to  the  managing  partner's  room,  he  will  admit  you,  and  will 
pause,  pen  in  hand,  from  his  writing,  to  bid  you  good  morn- 
ing, and  wait  to  know  what  you  have  to  say;  that  is,  if 
you  have  no  other  introduction  to  him  or  his  house  than  a 
thousand  or  two  pounds  to  your  credit  in  their  hands,  which 
you  intend  drawing  out  on  your  letter  of  credit. 

Don't  imagine  such  a  bagatelle  as  that  thousand  or  two, 
my  raw  tourist,  is  going  to  thaw  British  ice ;  it  is  but  a  drop 
in  their  ocean  of  capital,  and  they  allow  you  four  per  cent, 
interest;  and  though  they  may  contrive  to  make  six  or  seven 
on  it,  all  they  have  to  do  with  you  is  to  honor  your  drafts 
less  commission  to  the  amount  of  your  letters. 

Messrs.  Baring  Brothers  &  Co.'s  banking  house  we  finally 
ascertain  is  at  No.  — ,  Bishop  Gate  (within).  Arrived  at  No. 
— ,  Bishop  Gate,  you  find  that  within  is  in  through  a  pas- 
sage to  the  rear  of  the  building ;  and  so  we  go  in.  There  is 
no  evidence  of  a  "palatial"  character  in  the  ordinary  con- 
tracted and  commonplace  looking  counting-room,  an  area 
enclosed  by  desks  facing  outward,  and  utterly  devoid  of  all 
those  elegant  conveniences  one  sees  in  the  splendid  counting- 
rooms  on  Wall  and  State  Streets,  —  foolish  frippery,  may 
be,  —  but  the  desks  look  crowded  and  inconvenient,  the  area 
for  customers  mean  and  contracted,  for  a  house  of  such  wealth, 
and  we  wondered  at  first  if  we  had  not  made  some  mistake. 
Here  we  were,  in  a  plain  and  very  ordinary  counting-room, 
like  that  of  a  New  England  country  bank,  surrounded  on 
three  sides  by  desks  facing  towards  us,  behind  high  and  trans- 
parent screens,  and  six  or  eight  clerks  aX  them,  writing  in 


AMUSING   EXPERIENCE.  1G7 

huge  ledgers.  After  standing  some  minutes  in  uncertainty 
we  made  for  the  nearest  clerk  at  one  of  the  apertures  in  the 
semicircle  of  desks. 

"  Is  this  the  Messrs.  Barings'  counting-house  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I  wish  to  draw  some  money." 

"  Bill,  sir,  or  letter  of  credit  ?  " 

"  Letter  of  credit." 

"Opposite  desk;"  and  he  pointed  with  his  quill  pen  to  the 
other  side. 

I  accordingly  crossed  over,  and  commenced  a  fresh  dialogue 
with  another  clerk. 

"I  desire  to  draw  some  money  on  this  letter  of  credit" 
(handing  it). 

"  Yes,  sir  "  (taking  it ;  looks  at  the  letter,  reads  it  carefully, 
then  looks  at  me  searchingly).  "Are  you  the  Mr. ,  men- 
tioned here  ?  " 

,"I  am,  sir"  (decidedly). 

"  How  much  money  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Twenty-five  pounds." 

Clerk  goes  to  a  big  ledger,  turns  it  over  till  he  finds  a  cer- 
tain page,  looks  at  the  page,  compares  it  with  the  letter, 
turns  to  another  clerk,  who  is  writing  with  his  back  to  him, 
hands  him  letter,  says  something  in  a  low  tone  to  him. 
Second  clerk  takes  letter,  and  goes  into  an  inner  apartment, 
and  the  first  commences  waiting  on  a  new  comer,  and  I  com- 
mence waiting  developments. 

In  about  five  minutes  clerk  number  two  returned  with 
something  for  me  to  sign,  which  I  did,  and  he  left  again. 
After  waiting,  perhaps,  five  minutes  more,  I  ventured  to  in- 
quire if  my  letter  of  credit  was  ready.  Clerk  number  one 
said  it  would  be  here  "  d'rectly ; "  and  so  it  was,  for  clerk 
number  two  returned  with  it  in  its  envelope,  and  in  his  hand 
a  check,  which  he  handed  me,  saying,  "Eighty  Lombard 
Street." 
"Sir?" 
"80  Lombard  Street"  (pointing  to  check). 


168  ROUTINE    VS.   COUETESY. 

"O,  I  am  to  get  the  money  at  80  Lombard  Street  — 
am  I?" 

"  Yes ;  better  hurry.     It's  near  bank  closing." 

"  But  where  is  Lombard  Street  ?  " 

(Aghast  at  my  ignorance.)     "Cross  d'rectly  you  go  out, 

turn  first  to  left,  then  take Street  on  right,  and  it's  first 

street  on  lef." 

It  might  have  been  an  accommodation  to  have  paid  me 
the  money  there,  instead  of  sending  me  over  to  Lombard 
Street ;  but  that  would  probably  have  been  out  of  routine,  and 
consequently  un-English. 

I  started  for  the  door,  but  when  nearly  out,  remembered 
that  I  had  not  inquired  for  letters  and  papers  from  home,  that 
I  had  given  instructions  should  be  sent  there  to  await  my 
arrival  from  Scotland  and  the  north,  and  accordingly  I 
returned,  and  inquired  of  clerk  number  two, — 

"  Any  letters  for  me  ?  " 

"  Ah !  beg  yer  pardon." 

"  Any  letters  for  me  ?  " 

"  You  'av  your  letter  in  your  'and,  sir." 

"  No ;  I  mean  any  letters  from  home  —  from  America  — 
to  my  address  ?  " 

"  The  other  side  sir"  (pointing  across  the  area). 

I  repaired  to  the  "  other  side,"  gave  my  address,  and  had 
the  satisfaction  of  receiving  several  epistles  from  loved  ones 
at  home,  which  the  clerk  checked  off  his  memoranda  as  de- 
livered, and  I  sallied  out  my  first  day  in  London,  to  turn  to 
the  left  and  right,  and  find  Lombard  Street.  Three  pence 
and  a  ticket  porter  enabled  me  to  do  this  speedily,  and  thus 
ended  our  first  experience  at  Baring  Brothers  &  Co.'s. 

There  may,  perhaps,  be  nothing  to  complain  of  in  all  this 
as  a  business  transaction,  but  that  it  was  regularly  performed ; 
but  after  one  has  experienced  the  courtesies  of  bankers  on  the 
continent,  he  begins  to  ask  himself  the  question,  if  the  Bar- 
ings ought  not,  taking  into  consideration  the  amount  of  money 
they  have  made  and  are  making  out  of  their  American  busi- 
ness and  the  American  people,  to  show  a  little  less  parsimony 


AN    AGREEABLE    CONTRAST.  169 

and  more  liberality  and  courtesy  to  them,  and  provide  some 
convenience  and  accommodation  for  that  class  of  customers, 
and  make  some  effort  to  put  the  raw  tourist,  whose  one  or 
two  thousand  pounds  they  have  condescended  to  receive,  at 
his  ease  when  he  visits  their  establishment. 

All  this  may  have  been  changed  since  I  was  in  London 
(1867)  ;  but  the  style  of  transactions  like  this  I  have  described 
was  then  a  general  topic  of  conversation  among  Americans, 
and  seemed  to  have  been  similar  in  each  one's  experience. 
In  Paris  how  different  was  the  reception !  Upon  presenting 
your  letter,  a  member  of  the  American  banking-house,  a  junior 
partner,  probably,  steps  forward,  greets  you  cordially,  makes 
pleasant  inquiries  with  regard  to  your  passage  over,  invites 
you  to  register  your  name  and  address,  ushers  you  into  a 
large  room  where  the  leading  American  journals  are  on  file, 
and  there  are  conveniences  for  letter  writing,  conversation, 
&c.  He  invites  you  to  make  this  your  headquarters ;  can  he 
do  anything  for  you?  you  want  some  money  —  the  cashier 
of  the  house  cashes  your  draft  at  once,  and  you  are  not  sent 
out  into  the  street  to  hunt  up  an  unknown  banking-house.  He 
can  answer  you  almost  any  question  about  Paris  or  its  sights, 
and  procure  you  cards  of  permission  to  such  places  of  note 
as  it  is  necessary  to  send  to  government  officials  for,  tell 
you  where  to  board  or  lodge,  and  execute  any  commission 
for  you. 

The  newly-arrived  American  feels  "  at  home  "  with  such  a 
greeting  as  this  at  once,  and  if  his  letter  draws  on  Baring's 
agent  in  Paris,  is  prone  to  withdraw  funds,  and  redeposit  with 
his  new-found  friends.  Of  course  the  houses  of  this  character, 
that  tourists  do  business  with  in  Paris,  were  peculiar  to  that 
city,  and  may  be  classed  as  banking  and  commission  houses, 
and  the  "  commission  "  part  of  the  business  has  come  into  ex- 
istence within  a  few  years,  and  was  of  some  importance  dur- 
ing the  year  of  the  Exposition.  That  part  of  the  business 
would  not  be  desirable  to  a  great  London  banking-house,  nor 
is  there  the  field  for  it,  as  in  Paris ;  but  there  is  room  for 
an  improvement  in  conveniences,  accommodation,  cordiality, 


170  THE    STREETS. 

courtesy,  &c,  towards  American  customers,  especially  tourists, 
who  naturally,  on  first  arrival,  turn  to  tlieir  banker  for  infor- 
mation respecting  usages,  customs,  &c,  and  for  other  intelli- 
gence which  might  be  afforded  with  comparatively  little 
trouble. 

But  to  the  sights  of  London.  The  streets  themselves,  as  I 
have  said,  are  among  the  sights  to  be  seen  in  this  great 
metropolis  of  the  civilized  world.  There  is  Pall  Mall,  or 
"  Pell  Mell,"  as  the  Londoners  call  it,  with  its  splendid  club- 
houses, the  "Travellers,"  "Keform,"  "Army  and  Navy," 
"Athenaeum,"  "Guards,"  "Oxford,"  and  numerous  others  I 
cannot  now  recall ;  Regent  Street,  to  which  I  have  referred, 
with  its  splendid  stores ;  Oxford  Street,  a  street  of  miles  in 
length,  and  containing  stores  of  equal  splendor  Avith  its  more 
aristocratic  rival ;  Holborn,  which  is  a  continuation  of  Oxford, 
and  carries  you  down  to  "  the  city ; "  Fleet  Street  and  the 
Strand,  with  their  newspaper  offices,  and  bustle,  and  turmoil, 
houses,  churches,  great  buildings,  and  small  shops.  Not  far 
from  here  are  Charing  Cross  Hotel  and  the  railroad  station,  a 
splendid  modern  building ;  or  you  may  go  over  into  White- 
hall, pass  by  the  Horse  Guards'  Barracks,  —  in  front  of  which 
two  mounted  troopers  sit  as  sentinels, — and  jdusIi  on,  till  rising 
to  view  stands  that  one  building  so  fraught  with  historic  in- 
terest as  to  be  worth  a  journey  across  the  ocean  to  see  —  the 
last  resting-place  of  kings,  queens,  princes,  poets,  warriors, 
artists,  sculptors,  and  divines,  the  great  Pantheon  of  Eng- 
land's glory  —  Westminster  Abbey. 

Its  time-browned  old  walls  have  looked  down  upon  the  regal 
coronation,  the  earthly  glory,  of  the  monarch,  and  received 
within  their  cold  embrace  his  powerless  ashes,  and  bear  upon 
their  enduring  sides  man's  last  vanity  —  his  epitaph. 

"  Think  how  many  royal  bones 
Sleep  within  these  heaps  of  stones ! 
Here  they  lie  —  had  realms  and  lands, 
Who  now  want  strength  to  lift  their  hands, 
Where,  from  their  pulpit,  sealed  with  dust, 
They  prcai  h,  '  In  greatness  is  no  trust.' 


WESTMINSTER   ABBEY.  171 

Here's  an  acre,  sown,  indeed,  , 

With  the  richest  royal  seed 
That  the  earth  did  e'er  suck  in 
Since  the  first  man  died  for  sin." 

I  stood  before  this  magnificent  Gothic  pile,  which  was 
brown  with  the  breath  of  a  many  centuries,  with  that  feel- 
ing of  quiet  satisfaction  and  enjoyment  that  one  experiences 
in  the  fruition  of  the  hopes  of  years.  There  were  the  two 
great  square  towers,  with  the  huge  Gothic  window  between, 
and  the  Gothic  door  below.  How  I  was  carried  back  to 
the  picture-books,  and  the  wood-cuts,  and  youth's  histories, 
that,  many  a  time  and  oft,  I  had  hung  over  when  a 
boy,  and  dreamed  and  fancied  how  it  really  looked ;  and 
here  it  was  —  a  more  than  realization  of  the  air-castle  of 
boyhood. 

The  dimensions  of  the  abbey  are,  length,  about  four  hun- 
dred feet,  breadth  at  the  transept,  two  hundred  and  three  feet ; 
the  length  of  the  nave,  one  hundred  and  sixteen  feet,  breadth, 
thirty-eight  feet ;  the  choir,  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  feet  by 
thirty-one.  To  the  dimensions  of  the  abbey  should  be  added 
that  of  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  which  is  built  on  to  it,  of  one 
hundred  and  fifteen  feet  long  by  eighty  wide,  its  nave  being 
one  hundred  and  four  feet  long  and  thirty-six  wide. 

The  form  of  the  abbey  is  the  usual  long  cross,  and  it  has 
three  entrances.  Besides  the  nave,  choir,  and  transepts,  there 
are  nine  chapels  dedicated  to  different  saints,  and  an  area  of 
cloisters.  The  best  external  view  of  the  building  is  obtained 
in  front  of  the  western  entrance,  where  the  visitor  has  full 
view  of  the  two  great  square  towers,  winch  rise  to  the  height 
of  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet. 

But  let  us  enter.  Out  from  an  unusually  bright  day  for 
London,  we  stej^ped  in  beneath  the  lofty  arches,  lighted  by 
great  windows  of  stained  glass,  glowing  far  above  in  colored 
sermons  and  religious  stories ;  and  from  this  point  —  the  west- 
ern entrance  —  a  superb  view  may  be  had  of  the  interior. 
Stretching  far  before  us  is  the  magnificent  colonnade  of  pillars, 
a  perfect  arcade  of  columns,  terminating  with  the  Chapel  of 


172  TOMBS    OF    KINGS    AND    WARRIORS. 

Edward  the  Confessor,  at  the  eastern  extremity,  and  the 
whole  interior  so  admirably  lighted  that  every  object  is  well 
brought  out,  and  clearly  visible. 

In  whichever  direction  the  footsteps  may  incline,  one  is 
brought  before  the  last  mementos  of  the  choicest  dust  of 
England.  Here  they  lie  —  sovereigns,  poets,  warriors,  divines, 
authors,  heroes,  and  philosophers ;  wise  and  pure-minded 
men,  vulgar  and  sensual  tyrants ;  those  who  in  the  fullness 
of  years  have  calmly  passed  away,  "  rich  in  that  hope  that  tri- 
umphs over  pain,"  and  those  whom  the  dagger  of  the  assassin, 
the  axe  of  the  executioner,  and  the  bullet  of  the  battle-field 
cut  down  in  their  prime.  Sovereign,  priest,  soldier,  and  citizen 
slumber  side  by  side,  laid  low  by  the  great  leveller,  Death. 

The  oldest  of  the  chapels  is  that  of  St.  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor. It  contains,  besides  the  monument  to  its  founder, 
those  of  many  other  monarchs.  Here  stands  the  tomb  of 
Henry  III.,  a  great  altar-like  structure  of  porphyry,  upon 
which  lies  the  king's  effigy  in  brass.  He  was  buried  with 
great  pomp  by  the  Knights  Templars,  of  which  order  his 
father  was  a  distinguished  member.  Next  comes  the  plain 
marble  tomb  of  that  bold  crusader,  Edward  I.,  with  the  de- 
spoiled one  of  Henry  V.  Here  also  is  the  tomb  of  Eleanor, 
queen  to  Edward  L,  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  sucked  the 
poison  from  her  husband's  wound  in  Palestine ;  and  here  the 
black  marble  tomb  of  Queen  Philippa,  wife  to  Edward  III., 
who  quelled  the  Scottish  insurrection  during  her  husband's 
absence.  This  tomb  was  once  ornamented  with  the  brass 
statues  of  thirty  kings  and  princes,  but  is  now  despoiled. 
Upon  the  great  gray  marble  tomb  of  Edward  III.,  who  died 
in  1377,  rests  his  effigy,  with  the  shield  and  sword  carried  be- 
fore him  in  France  —  a  big,  two-handled  affair,  seven  feet  long, 
and  weighing  eighteen  pounds. 

The  most  elegant  and  extensive  chapel  in  the  abbey  is  that 
of  Henry  VII.  Its  lofty,  arched,  Gothic  ceiling  is  most  ex- 
quisitely carved.  There  are  flowers,  bosses,  roses,  pendants, 
panels,  and  armorial  bearings  without  number,  a  bewildering 
mass  of  exquisite  tracery  and  ornamentation  in  stone,  above 


THE    CHAPELS.  173 

and  on  every  aide.  In  the  nave  of  this  chapel  the  Knights  of 
the  Order  of  the  Bath  are  installed,  and  here  are  their  stalls,  or 
seats,  elegantly  carved  and  shaded  with  Gothic  canopies,  while 
above  are  their  coats  of  arms,  heraldic  devices,  and  banners. 
But  the  great  object  of  interest  in  this  magnificent,  brass-gated 
chapel  is  the  elaborate  and  elegant  tomb  of  its  founder,  Henry 
"VII.,  and  his  queen,  Elizabeth,  the  last  of  the  Honse  of  York 
who  wore  the  English  crown.  The  tomb  is  elegantly  carved 
and  ornamented,  and  bears  the  effigies  of  the  royal  pair  rest- 
ing upon  a  slab  of  black  marble.  It  is  surrounded  by  a  most 
elaborate  screen,  or  fence,  of  curiously-wrought  brass-work. 
In  another  part  of  this  chapel  is  a  beautiful  tomb,  erected  to 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  surmounted  by  an  alabaster  effigy  of 
the  unfortunate  queen ;  and  farther  on  another,  also  erected 
by  King  James  I.  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  bearing  the  recumbent 
effigy  of  that  sovereign,  supported  by  four  lions.  Queen  Mary 
("Bloody  Mary"),  who  burned  about  seventy  persons  a  year 
at  the  stake  during  four  years  of  her  reign,  rests  here  in  the 
same  vault.  Not  far  from  this  monument  I  found  the  sar- 
cophagus marking  the  resting-place  of  the  bones  discovered 
in  the  Tower,  supposed  to  be  those  of  the  little  princes  mur- 
dered by  Richard  III. 

The  nine  chapels  of  the  abbey  are  crowded  with  the  tombs 
and  monuments  of  kings  and  others  of  royal  birth  down  to 
the  time  of  George  II.,  when  Windsor  Castle  was  made  the 
repository  of  the  royal  remains.  Besides  monuments  to  those 
of  noble  birth,  I  noticed  those  of  men  who  have,  by  great 
deeds  and  gifts  of  great  inventions  to  mankind,  achieved 
names  that  will  outlive  many  of  royal  blood,  in  some  of  these 
chapels.  In  the  Chajjel  of  St.  Paul  there  is  a  colossal  figure 
of  James  Watt,  who  so  developed  the  wonderful  r^ower  of 
steam ;  one  of  Thomas  Telford,  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  John, 
who  died  in  1834,  who,  by  his  extraordinary  talents  and  self- 
education,  raised  himself  from  the  position  of  orphan  son  of 
a  shej>herd  to  one  of  the  most  eminent  engineers  of  his  age ; 
also  the  tablet  to  Sir  Humphrey  Davy.  In  the  same  chapel 
is  a  full-length  statue  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  the  tragic  actress. 


174  an  empire's  dust. 

Besides  these,  there  were  in  this  chapel  two  wonderfully 
executed  monumental  groups,  that  attracted  my  attention. 
One  represented  a  tomb,  from  the  half-opened  marble  doors 
of  which  a  figure  of  Death  has  just  issued,  and  is  in  the  very 
act  of  casting  his  dart  at  a  lady  who  is  sinking  affrighted  into 
the  arms  of  her  husband,  who  is  rising  startled  from  his  seat 
upon  the  top  of  the  tomb.  The  life-like  attitude  and  expres- 
sion of  affright  of  these  two  figures  are  wonderful,  while  the 
figure  of  Death,  with  the  shroud  half  falling  off,  revealing 
the  fleshless  ribs,  skull,  and  bones  of  the  full-length  skeleton, 
is  something  a  little  short  of  terrible  in  its  marvellous  execur 
tion.  The  other  group  was  a  monument  to  Sir  Francis  Vere, 
who  was  a  great  soldier  in  Elizabeth's  time,  and  died  in  1608. 
It  is  a  tablet  supported  upon  the  shoulders  of  four  knights, 
of  life  size,  kneeling.  Upon  the  tablet  lie  the  different  parts 
of  a  complete  suit  of  armor,  and  underneath,  upon  a  sort  of 
alabaster  quilt,  rests  the  effigy  of  Sir  Francis.  The  kneeling 
figures  of  the  knights  are  represented  as  dressed  in  armor 
suits,  which  are  faithfully  and  elaborately  carved  by  the 
sculptor. 

While  walking  among  the  numerous  and  pretentious  mon- 
uments of  kings  and  princes,  we  were  informed  by  the  guide, 
who  with  bunch  of  keys  opened  the  various  chapels  to  our 
explorations,  that  many  a  royal  personage,  whose  name 
helped  to  fill  out  the  pages  of  England's  history,  slumbered 
almost  beneath  our  very  feet,  without  a  stone  to  mark  their 
resting-place.  Among  these  was  the  grave  of  the  merry 
monarch,  Charles  II. ;  and  the  fact  that  not  one  of  the  vast 
swarm  of  sycophantic  friends  that  lived  upon  him,  and  basked 
in  the  sunshine  of  his  prodigality,  had  thought  enough  of 
him  to  rear  a  tribute  to  his  memory,  was  something  of  an 
illustration  of  the  hollowness  and  heartlessness  of  that  class 
of  favorites  and  friends. 

Although  I  made  two  or  three  visits  to  the  abbey,  the  time 
allowed  in  these  chapels  by  the  guides  was  altogether  too 
short  to  study  the  elaborate  and  splendid  works  of  sculpture, 
the  curious  inscriptions,  and,  in  fact,  to  almost  re-read  a  por- 


the  poet's  corner.  175 

tion  of  England's  past  history  in  these  monuments,  that 
brought  us  so  completely  into  the  presence,  as  it  were,  of 
those  kings  and  princes  whom  we  are  accustomed  to  look  at 
through  the  dim  distance  of  the  past. 

We  have  only  taken  a  hasty  glance  at  the  chapels,  and 
some  of  the  most  noteworthy  monuments  they  contain. 
These  are  but  appendages,  as  it  were,  to  the  great  body  of 
the  abbey. 

There  are  still  the  south  transept,  the  nave,  north  transept, 
ambulatory,  choir,  and  cloisters  to  visit,  all  crowded  with  ele- 
gant groups  of  sculpture  and  bass-reliefs,  to  the  memory  of 
those  whose  names  are  as  familiar  to  us  as  household  words, 
and  whose  deeds  are  England's  history. 

Almost  the  first  portion  of  the  abbey  inquired  for  by  Amer- 
icans is  the  "  Poet's  Corner,"  which  is  situated  in  the  south 
transept ;  and  here  we  find  the  brightest  names  in  English  lit- 
erature recorded,  not  only  those  of  poets,  but  of  other  writ- 
ers, though,  among  the  former,  one  looks  in  vain  for  some 
memorial  of  one  of  England's  greatest  poets,  Byron,  for  this 
tribute  was  refused  to  him  in  Westminster  Abbey  by  his 
countrymen,  and  its  absence  is  a  bitter  evidence  of  their 
ingratitude. 

Here  we  stand,  surrounded  by  names  that  historians  de- 
light to  chronicle,  poets  to  sing,  and  sculptors  to  carve. 
Here  looks  out  the  medallion  portrait  of  Ben  Jonson,  poet 
laureate,  died  1627,  with  the  well-known  inscription  be- 
neath, — 

"  0  rare  Ben  Jonson." 

There  stands  the  bust  of  Butler,  author  of  Hudibras,  crowned 
with  laurel,  beneath  which  is  an  inscription  which  states 
that  — 

"Lest  he  who  (when  alive)  was  destitute  of  all  things  should  (when 

dead)  want  likewise  a  monument,  John  Barber,  citizen  of 

London,  hath  taken  sure  by  placing  this 

stone  over  him.     1712." 


176  TRIBUTES    TO   GENIUS. 

All  honor  to  John  Barber.  He  has  clone  what  many  a  king's 
worldly  friends  have  failed  to  do  for  the  monarch  they  flat- 
tered and  cajoled  in  the  sunshine  of  his  prosperity,  and  in 
so  doing  preserved  his  own  name  to  posterity. 

A  tablet  marks  the  resting-place  of  Spenser,  author  of 
"  The  Faerie  Queen,"  and  near  at  hand  is  a  bust  of  Milton. 
The  marble  figure  of  a  lyric  muse  holds  a  medallion  of  the 
poet  Gray,  who  died  in  1771.  The  handsome  monument  of 
Matthew  Prior,  the  poet  and  diplomatist,  is  a  bust,  resting 
upon  a  sarcophagus  guarded  by  two  full-length  marble  stat- 
ues of  Thalia  and  History,  above  which  is  a  cornice,  sur- 
mounted by  cherubs,  the  inscription  written  by  himself,  as 
follows :  — 

"  Nobles  and  heralds,  by  your  leave, 

Here  lies  what  onee  was  Matthew  Prior, 
The  son  of  Adam  and  of  Eve  — 

Can  Bourbon  or  Nassau  claim  higher?  " 

Not  far  from  this  monument  I  found  one  of  a  youth 
crowning  a  bust,  beneath  which  were  theatrical  emblems,  the 
inscription  stating  it  was  to  Barton  Booth,  an  actor  and  poet, 
who  died  in  1733,  and  was  the  original  Cato  in  Addison's 
tragedy  of  that  name. 

The  tomb  of  Geoffrey  Chaucer  —  the  father  of  English 
poetry,  as  he  is  called  —  is  an  ancient,  altar-like  structure, 
with  a  carved  Gothic  canopy  above  it.  The  inscription 
tells  us,  — 

"  Of  English  bards  who  sung  the  sweetest  strains, 
Old  Geoffrey  Chaucer  now  this  tomb  contains ; 
For  his  death's  date,  if,  reader,  thou  shouldst  call, 
Look  but  beneath,  and  it  will  tell  thee  all." 
"  25  October,  1400." 

John  Dryden's  bust,  erected  by  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, in  1720,  bears  upon  its  pedestal  the  following  lines, 
by  Pope : — 

"  This  Sheffield  raised ;  the  sacred  dust  below 
Was  Dryden  once  —  the  rest  who  does  not  know?" 


INTERESTING   MEMORIALS.  177 

Thomas  Campbell,  the  poet,  has  a  fine  full-length  statue  to 
his  memory,  representing  him,  book  and  pencil  in  hand,  with 
the  lyre  at  his  feet ;  and  near  by  is  the  bust  of  Southey,  poet 
laureate,  who  died  in  1843. 

The  well-known  statue  of  Shakespeare,  representing  the 
immortal  bard  leaning  upon  a  pile  of  books  resting  on  a  ped- 
estal, and  supporting  a  scroll,  upon  which  are  inscribed  lines 
from  his  play  of  "  The  Tempest,"  will,  of  course,  claim  our 
attention.  Upon  the  base  of  the  pillar  on  which  the  statue 
leans  are  the  sculptured  heads  of  Henry  V.,  Richard  II.,  and 
Queen  Elizabeth. 

Thomson,  author  of  the  Seasons,  has  a  monument  repre- 
senting him  in  a  sitting  position,  upon  the  pedestal  of  which 
representations  of  the  seasons  are  carved.  Gay's  is  a  Cupid, 
unveiling  a  medallion  of  the  poet,  and  one  of  his  couplets : — 

"Life  is  a  jest,  and  all  things  show  it; 
I  thought  so  once,  but  now  I  know  it." 

On  a  pedestal,  around  which  are  grouped  the  Nine  Muses, 
stands  the  statue  of  Addison,  and  a  tablet  near  by  boars  the 
familiar  profile  likeness  of  Oliver  Goldsmith,  who  died  in  1774. 

There  is  a  large  marble  monument  to  George  Frederick 
Handel,  which  represents  the  great  musician  standing,  with 
an  organ  behind  him,  and  an  angel  playing  upon  a  harp  above 
it,  while  at  his  feet  are  grouped  musical  instruments  and  dra- 
pery. Another  very  elaborate  marble  group  is  that  to  the 
memory  of  David  Garrick,  which  represents  a  life-size  figure 
of  the  great  actor,  standing,  and  throwing  aside  with  each 
hand  a  curtain.  At  the  base  of  the  pedestal  upon  which  the 
statue  rests  are  seated  life-size  figures  of  Tragedy  and  Com- 
edy. The  names  of  other  actors  and  dramatists  also  appear 
upon  tablets  in  the  pavement:  Beaumont,  upon  a  slab  before 
Dryden's  monument,  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  Cumber- 
land, &c. ;  and  one  of  the  recent  additions  in  the  Poet's  Corr 
ner  was  a  marble  bust  of  Thackeray. 

In  the  nave  I  viewed  with  some  interest  a  fine  bust  of' 
Isaac   Watts,   D.   D.,   whose   hymns   are    so    familiar,   and 
12 


178  CURIOUS    SCULPTURES. 

among  the  earliest  impressed  upon  the  infant  mind.  Here 
in  the  nave  are  a  host  of  monuments,  tablets,  and  bass-reliefs 
to  naval  and  military  heroes,  scholars,  and  professors ;  one,  to 
Dr.  Andrew  Bell,  represents  him  in  his  arm-chair  (bass-relief), 
surrounded  by  his  pupils ;  another,  to  a  president  of  the  Royal 
Society,  represents  him  surrounded  by  books  and  manuscripts, 
globes,  scientific  instruments,  &c.  General  George  Wade 
has  a  great  trophy  of  arras  raised  upon  a  sarcophagus,  which 
a  figure  of  Time  is  represented  as  advancing  to  destroy,  but 
whom  Fame  prevents.  In  the  wall,  in  bass-relief,  we  found  a 
group  representing  the  flag  of  truce  conveyed  to  General 
Washington,  asking  the  life  of  Major  Andre.  This  group  is 
cut  upon  a  sarcophagus,  over  which  Britannia  is  represented 
weeping,  and  is  the  monument  to  that  young  officer,  who  was 
executed  as  a  spy  in  the  war  of  the  American  Revolution. 
Another  monument,  which  attracts  the  attention  of  Amer- 
icans, is  that  erected  to  a  Colonel  Roger  Townsend,  who  was 
killed  by  a  cannon  ball  while  recconnoitring  the  French  lines 
at  Ticonderoga,  in  1759 ;  it  is  a  pyramid  of  red  and  white 
marble,  against  which  are  the  figures  of  two  American  Indians 
in  war  costume,  supporting  a  sarcophagus,  on  which  is  a  fine 
bass-relief,  representing  the  death  on  the  battle-field. 

There  are  other  modern  monuments  of  very  elaborate  and 
curious  designs,  which  are  of  immense  detail  for  such  work, 
and  must  have  involved  a  vast  deal  of  labor  and  expense ;  as, 
for  instance,  that  to  General  Hargrave,  governor  of  Gibraltar, 
died  in  1750,  which  is  designed  to  represent  the  discomfiture 
of  Death  by  Time,  and  the  resurrection  of  the  Just  on  the 
Day  of  Judgment.  The  figure  of  the  general  is  represented 
as  starting,  reanimated,  from  the  tomb,  and  behind  him  a 
pyramid  is  tumbling  into  ruins,  while  Time  has  seized  Death, 
and  is  hurling  him  to  the  earth,  after  breaking  his  fatal  dart. 
Another  is  that  to  Admiral  Richard  Tyrrell,  in  which  the 
rocks  are  represented  as  being  rent  asunder,  and  the  sea  giv- 
ing up  its  dead ;  upon  one  side  is  the  admiral's  ship,  upon 
which  a  figure  stands  pointing  upwards  to  the  admiral,  who 
is  seen  ascending  amid  the  marble  clouds. 


STATUARY   AND    MONUMENTS.  179 

In  the  nave  is  also  a  half-length  figure  of  Congreve,  the 
dramatist,  with  dramatic  emblems ;  and  next  it  is  the  grave 
of  Mrs.  Oldficld,  the  actress,  who,  the  guide  tells  us,  was 
M  buried  in  a  fine  Brussels  lace  head-dress,  a  Holland  shift 
with  a  tucker  and  double  ruffles  of  the  same  lace,  a  pair  of 
new  kid  gloves,  and  her  body  wrapped  up  in  a  winding-sheet." 
At  one  end  of  the  nave  is  a  fine  group  erected  by  govern- 
ment, in  1813,  at  a  cost  of  six  thousand  three  hundred 
pounds,  to  William  Pitt,  died  1806.  It  represents  the  great 
orator,  at  full  length,  in  the  act  of  addressing  the  House,  while 
History,  represented  by  a  full-length  figure  seated  at  the  base 
of  the  pedestal,  is  recording  his  words,  and  Anarchy,  a  full- 
length  figure  of  a  naked  man,  sits  bound  with  chains.  A 
monument  erected  by  government  to  William  Pitt,  the  Earl 
of  Chatham,  who  died  1778,  stands  in  a  recess,  and  is  much 
more  elaborate.  It  represents  him  standing  in  the  act  of 
speaking ;  and  below,  grouped  round  a  sarcophagus,  are  five 
life-size  figures  —  Prudence,  Fortitude,  Neptune,  Peace,  and 
Britannia.  This  great  group  cost  six  thousand  pounds 
sterling. 

But  I  find,  on  consulting  the  notes  made  of  my  visits  to 
these  interesting  mausoleums  of  the  great,  that  writing  out 
fully  a  rehearsal  of  the  memoranda  would  extend  beyond  the 
limits  designed  in  these  sketches.  There  were  the  monu- 
ments to  Fox,  the  statesman,  with  Peace  and  the  African 
kneeling  at  his  feet ;  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  the  great  philos- 
opher and  mathematician ;  William  Wilberforce,  the  eminent 
abolitionist ;  Warren  Hastings ;  a  fine  statue  of  George  Can- 
ning, erected  by  his  friends  and  countrymen  —  one  of  Eng- 
land's greatest  orators,  of  whom  Byron  wrote, — 

"  Who,  bred  a  statesman,  still  was  born  a  wit," — 

a  full-length  statue  of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  erected  by  govern- 
ment at  a  cost  of  five  thousand  pounds ;  and  others,  an  idea 
of  which  may  be  gathered  from  the  somewhat  cursory  de- 
scription of  those  already  mentioned. 

Well,  we  have  seen  Westminster  Abbey.    Where  to  go 


180  LUXURY    OF    SIGHT-SEEING. 

next?  There  is  so  much  to  see  in  London,  and  time  is  so 
short,  weeks,  months,  might  be  spent  here  in  hunting  up 
the  various  interesting  sights  that  we  have  stowed  away  in 
the  storehouse  of  memory,  for  the  time  that  we  should  need 
them. 

First,  there  are  the  scenes  of  the  solid,  square,  historical 
facts,  which,  with  care  and  labor,  were  taken  in  like  heavy 
merchandise  in  school-boy  days.  The  very  points,  localities, 
churches,  prisons,  and  buildings  where  the  events  of  history, 
that  figure  in  our  school-books,  took  place ;  where  we  may 
look  upon  the  very  finger-marks,  as  it  were,  that  the  great, 
the  good,  the  wicked,  and  the  tyrannical  have  left  behind 
them.  Then  there  are  the  scenes  that  poets  and  novelists 
have  thrown  a  halo  of  romance  around,  and  those  whose 
common  every-day  expressions  are  as  familiar  in  America  as 
in  England. 

What  young  American,  who  has  longed  to  visit  London, 
and  who,  on  his  first  morning  there,  as  he  prepares  himself 
with  all  the  luxurious  feeling  of  one  about  to  realize  years  of 
anticipation,  but  that  runs  over  in  his  mind  all  that  he  has, 
time  and  again,  read  of  in  this  great  city,  in  history,  story,  and 
in  fable,  and  the  memory  of  the  inward  wish,  or  resolve,  that 
he  has  often  made  to  some  day  see  them  all  ?  Now,  which 
way  to  turn  ?  Here  they  all  are — Westminster  Abbey,  British 
Museum,  St.  Paul's,  Old  London  Bridge,  Hyde  Park,  Bank 
of  England,  Zoological  Gardens,  the  Tower,  the  Theatres, 
Buckingham  Palace,  River  Thames,  and  he  has  two  or  three 
weeks  before  going  to  the  continent. 

A  great  many  things  may  be  seen  in  three  weeks. 

That  is  very  true  in  the  manner  that  many  of  our  country- 
men, who  look  merely  at  the  face  of  countries,  and  bring 
home  their  empty  words,  see  them ;  but  the  tourist  on  his 
first  visit  abroad,  before  he  has  half  a  dozen  weeks  of  experi- 
ence, begins  to  ascertain  what  a  tremendous  labor  constant 
sight-seeing  is. 

In  London  1  have  met  American  friends,  who  had  the 
keenest  desire  to  visit  some  of  the  streets  described  in  Dickens's 


A   PENNY    STEAMBOAT    TKIP.  181 

works,  and  one  who  told  me  that  he  had  just  found,  after  a 
difficult  search,  Goswcll  Street,  and  had  walked  down  that 
thoroughfare  till  he  found  a  house  with  a  placard  in  the  win- 
dow of  "Apartments  furnished  for  a  single  gentleman.  In- 
quire within."  And  feeling  pretty  sui'e  that  Mrs.  Bardell 
lived  there,  he  had  the  Pickwickian  romance  all  taken  out  of 
him  by  a  sort  of  Sally-Brass-looking  personage,  who  respond- 
ed to  his  inquiries,  and  confessed  to  the  name  of  Finch,  a  sort 
of  Chaff-Finch  he  thought,  from  the  sharp  and  acrid  style  of 
her  treating  his  investigations.  I  confess,  myself,  to  a  brief 
halt  at  the  Pimlico  station,  and  a  glance  about  to  see  what 
the  expression,  "everything  in  Pimlico  order,"  meant,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  because  there  were  whole 
streets  of  houses  there  so  painfully  regular  and  so  exactly 
like  each  other,  as  to  excite  my  wonder  how  a  man  ever 
learned  to  recognize  his  own  dwelling  from  his  neighbors'. 

But  it  is  a  Sunday  morning  in  London,  and  we  will  make 
an  excursion  up  the  River  Thames  on  a  penny  steamboat. 
These  little  steam  omnibuses  are  a  great  convenience,  and 
are  often  so  covered  with  passengers  as  to  look  like  a  floating 
mass  of  humanity ;  the  price  is  about  a  penny  a  mile,  and  a 
ride  up  to  Kew  Gardens,  about  seven  miles  from  where  I 
took  the  boat,  cost  me  sixpence.  The  boats  dart  about  on 
the  river  with  great  skill  and  speed,  and  make  and  leave 
landings  almost  as  quickly  as  an  omnibus  would  stop  to  take 
up  passengers.  Americans  cannot  fail  to  notice  that  these 
boats  have  not  yet  adopted  the  signal  bell  to  the  engineer ; 
but  that  party  has  orders  passed  him  from  the  captain,  by 
word  of  mouth  through  a  boy  stationed  at  the  gangway,  and 
the  shout  of,  "  Ease-ar  " !  "  Start-ar  " !  "  Back-ar  " !  "  Slow-ar  " ! 
"  Go  on,"  regulates  the  boat's  movements,  gives  employment 
to  one  more  hand,  and  enables  Englishmen  to  hold  on  to  an 
old  notion. 

The  sail  up  the  Thames  upon  one  of  these  little  river 
steamers,  of  a  fine  day,  is  a  very  pleasant  excursion.  A  good 
view  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament  and  all  the  great  London 
bridges  is  had,  the  little  steamer  passing  directly  under  the 


182  KEW   GAEDENS. 

arches  of  the  latter;  but  at  some  of  them,  whose  arches  were 
evidently  constructed  before  steam  passages  of  this  kind  were 
dreamed  of,  the  arches  were  so  low  that  the  smoke-pipe,  con- 
structed with  a  hinge  for  that  purpose,  was  lowered  back- 
wards flat  to  the  deck,  and  after  passing  the  arch,  at  once 
resumed  its  upright  position.  Landing  not  far  from  Kew 
Green,  we  pursued  our  way  along  a  road  evidently  used  by 
the  common  classes,  who  came  out  here  for  Sunday  excur- 
sions, for  it  was  past  a  series  of  little  back  gardens  of  houses, 
apparently  of  mechanics,  who  turned  an  honest  penny  by 
fitting  up  these  little  plots  into  cheap  tea  gardens,  by  mak- 
ing arbors  of  hop  vines  or  cheap  running  plants,  beneath 
which  tables  were  spread,  and  signs,  in  various  styles  of  or- 
thography, informed  the  pedestrian  that  hot  tea  and  tea 
cakes  were  always  ready,  or  that  boiling  water  could  be  had 
by  those  wishing  to  make  their  own  tea,  and  that  excursion 
parties  could  "take  tea  in  the  arbor"  at  a  very  moderate 
sum. 

Kew  Gardens  contain  nearly  three  hundred  and  fifty 
acres,  and  are  open  to  the  public  every  afternoon,  Sunday 
not  excepted.  Upon  the  latter  day,  which  was  when  I  visited 
them,  there  are  —  if  the  weather  is  pleasant  —  from  ten  to 
twelve  thousand  people,  chiefly  of  the  lower  orders,  present ; 
but  the  very  best  of  order  prevailed,  and  all  seemed  to  be 
enjoying  themselves  very  much.  Beside  the  tea  gardens,  on 
the  road  of  approach,  just  outside  the  gardens,  there  were 
every  species  of  hucksters'  refreshments  —  all  kinds  of  buns, 
cakes,  fruits,  &c,  in  little  booths  and  stands  of  those  who 
vended  them,  for  the  refreshment  of  little  family  parties,  or 
individuals  who  had  come  from  London  here  to  pass  the 
day.  Hot  waffles  were  baked  and  sold  at  two  pence  each,  as 
fast  as  the  vender  could  turn  his  hand  to  it ;  an  uncertain 
sort  of  coffee  at  two  pence  a  cup,  and  tea  ditto,  were  served 
out  by  a  vender  from  a  portable  urn  kept  hot  by  a  spirit 
lamp  beneath  it ;  and  servant  girls  out  for  a  holiday,  work- 
men with  their  wives  and  children,  shop-boys  and  shop-men, 
and  throngs  of  work  people,  were  streaming  on  in  through  the 


GA11DENS    AND    HOT-HOUSES.  183 

ornamented  gates,  beyond  which  boundary  no  costermonger 
is  allowed  to  vend  his  wares,  and  within  the  precincts  of  the 
gardens  no  eating  and  throwing  of  fragments  of  fruit  or  food 
permitted. 

The  gardens  are  beautifully  laid  out  in  pleasure-grounds, 
broad  walks,  groves,  flower  gardens,  greensward,  &c.  —  a 
pleasing  combination  of  the  natural  and  artificial ;  the  public 
may  walk  where  they  wish ;  they  may  saunter  here  and  there  ; 
they  may  lie  down  or  walk  on  the  greensward,  only  they  must 
not  pluck  the  flowers  or  break  the  trees  and  plants ;  the  gar- 
den is  a  perfect  wealth  of  floral  treasures.  Seventy-five  of 
its  three  hundred  and  fifty  acres  are  devoted  to  the  Botanic 
Gardens,  with  different  hot-houses  for  rare  and  tropical  plants, 
all  open  to  the  public. 

Here  are  the  great  Palm  House,  with  its  palm  trees,  screw 
}5ines,  bananas,  bamboos,  sugar-canes,  fig  trees,  and  other  vege- 
table wonders ;  the  Victoria  Regia  House,  with  that  huge-leafed 
production  spread  out  upon  its  waters,  with  specimens  of 
lotus,  lilies,  papyrus,  and  other  plants  of  that  nature;  the 
tropical  hot-house,  full  of  elegant  flowery  tropical  plants ;  a 
Fern  House,  containing  an  immense  variety  of  ferns,  and  a 
buildinsr  in  which  an  extensive  and  curious  collection  of  the 
cactus  family  are  displayed.  These  hot-houses  and  nurseries 
are  all  kept  in  perfect  order,  heated  with  steam,  and  the 
plants  in  them  properly  arranged  and  classified. 

The  great  parterre  of  flowers  presents  a  brilliant  sight, 
showing  all  the  rich  and  gorgeous  hues,  so  skilfully  arranged 
as  to  look  in  the  distance  like  a  silken  robe  of  many  colors 
spread  upon  the  earth.  These  winding  walks,  ornamental 
buildings,  ferneries,  azalea,  camellia,  rhododendron,  and  heath 
"  houses  "  afford  every  opportunity  for  the  botanist  to  study 
the  habits  of  plants,  the  lover  of  flowers  to  feast  on  their 
beauty,  and  the  poor  man  and  his  family  an  agreeable,  pleas- 
ant, and  rational  enjoyment.  Then  there  is  a  museum  of 
all  the  different  kinds  of  wood  known  in  the  world,  and  the 
forms  into  w  hich  it  is  or  can  be  wrought.  Here  is  rose-wood 
in  the  rough  and  polish ;  great  rough  pieces  of  mahogany  in 


184  THE  "star  and  garter." 

a  log,  and  wrought  into  a  piece  of  elegant  carving ;  willow, 
in  its  long,  slender  wands,  and  twisted  into  elegant  baskets ; 
a  great  chunk  of  iron-wood  in  the  rough,  or  shaped  with  the 
rude  implement  and  patient  industry  of  the  savage  into  an 
elaborately-wrought  war-club  or  paddle ;  tough  lance-wood, 
and  its  carriage  work  beside  it ;  maple  and  its  pretty  panels ; 
ash ;  pine  of  every  kind,  and  then  numerous  wonderful  woods 
I  had  never  heard  of,  from  distant  lands,  some  brilliant  in  hue 
and  elegant  in  grain,  others  curious  in  form,  of  wondrous 
weight  or  astonishing  lightness ;  ebony  and  cork-wood  ;  bam- 
bos,  sandal-wood,  camphor,  cedar  and  cocoa-wood;  stunted 
sticks  from  arctic  shores,  solid  timber  from  the  temperate,  and 
the  curious  fibrous  stems  of  the  tropics.  It  was  really  aston- 
ishing to  see  what  an  extensive,  curious,  and  interesting  collec- 
tion this  museum  of  the  different  woods  of  the  world  formed. 

A  short,  brisk  ride,  of  little  more  than  a  couple  of  miles, 
brought  us  to  the  celebrated  Star  and  Garter  Hotel,*  at  Rich- 
mond Hill,  where  one  of  the  most  beautiful  English  landscapes 
in  the  vicinity  of  London  can  be  obtained.  The  hotel,  which 
was  situated  upon  a  high  terrace,  commanded  an  extensive 
view  of  the  Thames  far  below  it,  in  its  devious  windings 
through  a  wooded  country  of  hill  and  dale,  with  Windsor 
Castle  in  the  distance.  This  house,  so  famed  in  novels  and 
plays,  is  the  resort  of  the  aristocracy ;  its  terraced  gardens  are 
elegant,  and  Richmond  Park,  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  with 
its  two  thousand  acres,  is  crowded  every  afternoon  during  the 
season  with  their  equipages  —  equipages,  however,  which  do 
not  begin  to  compare  in  grace  and  elegance  with  those  of 
Central  Park,  New  York. 

There  can  be  no  pleasanter  place  to  sit  and  dine  of  an 
afternoon  in  May  than  the  dining-room  of  the  Star  and  Gar- 
ter, with  its  broad  windows  thrown  open  upon  the  beautiful 
gardens,  with  their  terraces  and  gravelled  walks  running  down 
towards  the  river,  and  rich  in  flowers,  vases,  and  ornamental 
balustrades,  with  gay  and  fashionable  promenaders  passing  to 

*  Since  the  author's  visit  the  "  Star  and  Garter  "  has  been  destroyed 
by  fire. 


THE    ORIGINAL   WAX   WORKS.  185 

and  fro,  enjoying  the  scene.  For  more  than  a  hundred  feet 
below  flashes  the  river,  meandering  on  its  crooked  course, 
with  pleasure-boats,  great  and  small,  sporting  upon  it;  and, 
perched  upon  hill-sides  and  in  pleasant  nooks,  here  and  there, 
are  the  beautiful  villas  of  the  aristocracy  and  wealthy  people. 
The  dinner  was  good,  and  served  with  true  English  disregard 
of  time,  requiring  about' two  hours  or  less  to  accomplish  it; 
but  the  attendance  was  excellent,  and  the  price  of  the  enter- 
tainment could  be  only  rivalled  in  America  by  one  person  — 
Delmonico. 

But  then  one  must  dine  at  the  Star  and  Garter  in  order  to 
answer  affirmatively  the  question  of  every  Englishman  who 
learns  that  you  have  been  to  Richmond  Hill,  and  who  is  as 
much  gratified  to  hear  the  cuisine  and  excellent  wines  of  this 
hotel  extolled  by  the  visitor,  as  the  splendid  panoramic  view 
from  its  windows,  or  the  wild  and  natural  beauties  of  the 
magnificent  great  park  in  the  immediate  neighborhood. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

If  there  is  any  one  exhibition  that  seems  to  possess  interest 
to  the  inhabitants  of  the  rural  districts  of  both  America  and 
England,  it  is  "wax  works."  Mrs.  Jarley  understood  the 
taste  of  the  English  public  in  this  direction,  if  we  are  to  be- 
lieve her  celebrated  chronicler.  Artemus  Ward  commenced 
his  career  with  his  celebrated  collection  of  "  wax  figgers ;"  and 
one  of  the  sights  of  London,  at  the  present  day, — -and  a  sight, 
let  me  assure  the  reader,  that  is  well  worth  the  seeing,  —  is 
Madame  Tussaud's  "  exhibition  of  distinguished  characters." 

Let  not  the  unsophisticated  reader  suppose  that  this  is  a 
collection  of  frightful  caricatures,  similar  to  those  he  has  seen 
at  travelling  exhibitions  or  cheap  shows,  where  one  sees  the 
same  figure  that  has  done  duty  as  Semmes,  the  pirate,  trans- 
formed, by  change  of  costume,  into  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 


186  MADAME    TUSSAUD'S   EXHIBITION. 

or  Jefferson  Davis,  or  that  it  is  one  of  those  sets  of  figures 
Avith  exj:>ressionless-looking  faces,  and  great,  staring  glass  eyes, 
dressed  in  cast-off  theatrical  wardrobes,  or  garments  sugges- 
tive of  an  old-clothes  shop.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  Madame 
Tussaud's  exhibition  was  first  opened  in  the  Palais  Royal, 
Paris,  in  1772,  and  in  London  1802,  and  is  the  oldest  exhibi- 
tion of  the  kind  known;  and  although  the  celebrated  Madame 
is  dead,  her  sons  still  keep  up  the  exhibition,  improving  upon 
it  each  season,  and  display  an  imposing  list  of  noble  patrons 
upon  their  catalogue,  among  whom  figure  the  names  of  Prince 
Albert,  Louis  XVIIL,  the  late  Duke  of  Wellington,  &c. 

The  price  of  admission  is  a  shilling;  an  additional  sixpence 
is  charged  to  visit  the  Chamber  of  Horrors ;  and  a  catalogue 
costs  the  visitor  another  sixpence,  so  that  it  is  a  two-shilling 
affair,  but  richly  worth  it.  The  exhibition  consists  of  a  series 
of  rooms,  in  which  the  figures,  three  hundred  in  number,  are 
classified  and  arranged.  The  first  I  sauntered  into  was  des- 
ignated  the  Hall  of  Kings,  and  contained  fifty  figures  of 
kings  and  queens,  from  William  the  Conqueror  to  Victoria  ; 
they  were  all  richly  clad  in  appropriate  costumes,  some  armed 
with  mail  and  weapons,  and  with  faces,  limbs,  and  attitudes 
so  artistically  and  strikingly  natural,  as  to  startle  one  by  their 
marvellous  semblance  of  reality;  then  the  costumes,  orna- 
ments, and  arms  are  exact  copies  of  those  worn  at  the  different 
periods,  and  the  catalogue  asserts  that  the  faces  are  carefully 
modelled  from  the  best  portraits  and  historical  authorities. 

Here  are  William  the  Conqueror  and  his  Queen  Matilda ; 
here  is  William  Rufus,  with  his  red  locks  and  covetous  brow ; 
here  stands  Richard  I.  (Coeur  de  Lion),  his  tall  figure  enclosed 
in  shirt  of  chain-mail ;  and  there  sits  King  John,  with  dark 
frown  and  clinched  hand,  as  if  cursing  the  fate  that  compelled 
him  to  yield  to  the  revolting  barons,  and  sign  Magna  Charta ; 
Edward  III.  and  his  Queen,  Philippa,  the  latter  wearing  a  gir- 
dle of  the  order  of  knighthood ;  and  near  at  hand,  Edward's 
noble,  valiant  son,  the  Black  Prince  —  a  magnificent  figure, 
looking  every  inch  a  warrior,  and  noble  gentleman.  The 
artist  had  succeeded  in  face,  costume,  and  attitude  in  repre- 


HALL   OF   SOVEREIGNS.  187 

senting  in  this  work  one  of  the  most  grand  and  chivalric- 
looldng  figures  I  ever  looked  upon,  and  which  caused  me, 
again  and  again,  to  turn  and  gaze  at  what  appeared  such  an 
embodiment  of  nobleness  and  bravery  as  one  might  read  of 
in  poetry  and  romance,  but  never  see  in  living  person. 
Among  others  of  great  merit  was  the  figure  of  Edward  IV. 
in  his  coronation  robes,  who  was  considered  the  handsomest 
man  of  his  time  ;  and  Richard  III.  in  a  splendid  suit  of  armor 
of  the  period,  and  the  face  copied  from  an  original  portrait 
owned  by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk ;  Henry  VII.  in  the  same 
splendid  costume  in  which  he  figures  on  his  monument  in 
Westminster  Abbey ;  and  then  bluff  old  Henry  VIII.,  habited 
in  a  full  suit  of  armor,  as  worn  by  him  on  the  Field  of  the 
Cloth  of  Gold. 

Queen  Mary  (Bloody  Mary)  in  her  rich  costume;  then 
comes  Queen  Elizabeth,  dressed  exactly  as  she  is  in  Holbein's 
well-known  picture  at  Hampton  Court  Palace ;  Charles  I.  in 
the  splendid  suit  of  chevalier  armor  of  his  time ;  and  Oliver 
Cromwell  in  his  russet  boots,  leather  surcoat,  steel  gorget  and 
breastplate,  broad  hat,  and  coarse,  square  features ;  George  III. 
in  the  robes  of  the  Order  of  St.  Patrick ;  his  majesty  George 
IV.  in  that  stunning  costume  of  silk  stockings,  breeches,  &c., 
and  the  robes  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter  over  it,  in  which  he 
figures  in  the  picture  that  we  are  all  so  familiar  with. 

Then  we  have  Victoria  and  her  whole  family,  a  formidable 
group  in  point  of  numbers,  very  well  executed  figures,  and 
clad  in  rich  and  fashionably-made  costumes,  some  of  which 
are  veritable  court  dresses,  which  have  been  purchased  after 
being  cast  aside  by  the  wearers.  Certainly  the  outfit  of  these 
figures  must  be  a  heavy  expense,  as  is  evident  to  the  most 
casual  observer. 

So  much  for  the  hall  of  English  sovereigns.  The  other 
statues  embrace  representations  of  other  monarchs  and  cele- 
brated personages.  Nicholas  I.  of  Russia's  tall  figure  looms 
up  in  his  uniform  of  Russian  Guards ;  Napoleon  III.,  Marshal 
St.  Arnaud,  and  General  Canrobert  in  their  dresses  of  French 
generals;  Abdul  Medjid  in  full  Turkish  costume,  and  the 
Empress  Eugenie  in  a  splendid  court  dress. 


188  A  'CLEVER   DECEPTION". 

A  very  fine  figure  of  Charlemagne  in  full  armor,  equipped 
for  battle,  which  was  manufactured  for  the  great  exhibition 
of  1862,  is  a  splendid  specimen  of  figure-work  and  modern 
armor  manufacture.  Then  we  came  to  a  fine  figure  of  Wol- 
sey  in  his  cardinal's  dress.  Mrs.  Siddons  in  the  character  of 
Queen  Katherine,  Macready  as  Coriolanus,  and  Charles  Kean 
as  Macbeth,  are  evidence  that  the  theatrical  profession  is  re- 
membered, while  Knox,  Calvin,  and  Wesley  indicate  attention 
to  the  clergy. 

The  few  American  figures  were  for  the  most  part  cheaper 
affairs  than  the  rest  of  the  collection,  and  might  be  suspected, 
some  of  them,  of  being  old  ones  altered  to  suit  the  times. 
For  instance,  that  of  General  McClellan,  President  Lincoln 
and  his  Assassin,  George  Wilkes  Booth,  as  the  catalogue  has 
it,  would  hardly  pass  for  likenesses. 

There  is  a  very  natural,  life-like-looking  figure  of  Madame 
Tussaud  herself,  a  little  old  lady  in  a  large  old-fashioned  bon- 
net, looking  at  a  couch  upon  which  reposes  a  splendid  figure 
of  a  Sleeping  Beauty,  so  arranged  with  clock-work  that  the 
bosom  rises  and  falls  in  regular  pulsations,  as  if  breathing 
and  asleep.  Madame  Tussaud  died  in  1850,  at  the  age  of 
ninety  years. 

A  very  clever  deception  is  that  of  an  old  gentleman,  seated 
in  the  middle  of  a  bench,  holding  a  programme  in  his  hand, 
and  apparently  studying  a  large  group  of  figures.  By  an  in- 
genious operation  of  machinery,  he  is  made  to  occasionally 
raise  his  head  from  the  paper  he  is  so  carefully  perusing,  and 
regard  the  group  in  the  most  natural  manner  possible,  and 
afterwards  resume  his  study.  This  figure  is  repeatedly  taken 
by  strangers  to  be  a  living  person,  and  questions  or  observa- 
tions are  frequently  addressed  to  it.  One  of  my  own  party 
politely  solicited  the  loan  of  the  old  gentleman's  programme 
a  moment,  and  only  discovered,  from  the  wooden  character 
of  the  shoulder  he  laid  his  hand  on,  why  he  was  not  answered. 
Ere  long  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  witnessing  another  person 
ask  the  quiet  old  gentleman  to  "  move  along  a  bit,"  and  re- 
peat the  request  till  the  smothered  laughter  of  the  spectators 
revealed  the  deception. 


RELICS    OF   NAPOLEON   I.  189 

Perhaps  tba  most  interesting  part  of  Madame  Tussaud's 
exhibition  was  the  Napoleon  rooms,  containing  an  extensive 
collection  of  relics  of  Naj:>oleon  the  Great.  These  relics 
are  unquestionably  authentic,  and,  of  course,  from  their  char- 
acter, of  great  value.  There  is  the  camp  bedstead  upon 
which  the  great  warrior  rested  during  seven  years  of  his 
weary  exile  at  St.  Helena,  with  the  very  mattresses  and  pil- 
lows upon  which  he  died,  and,  in  a  glass  case  near  by,  the 
counterpane  used  upon  the  bed,  and  stained  with  his  blood. 
This  last,  a  relic,  indeed,  which  the  possessors  might,  as  Mark 
Antony  suggested  of  napkins  dipped  in  dead  Caesar's  wounds, 

"  Dying,  mention  it  within  their  wills, 
Bequeathing  it,  as  a  rich  legacy, 
Unto  their  issue." 

This  bed  was  purchased  of  Prince  Lucien,  Napoleon's  brother, 
for  four  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  Then,  as  if  in  mockery 
of  human  greatness,  there  was  hung  close  by  this  death-bed 
the  coronation  robe  of  Napoleon,  sold  at  the  restoration  of 
Louis  XVIII.,  from  the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame ;  also  the 
robe  of  the  Empress  Josephine,  sold  at  the  same  time.  Here, 
upon  the  bed,  is  a  wax  figure  of  the  great  emperor,  partially 
enveloped  in  a  cloak,  the  identical  one  he  wore  at  the  battle 
of  Marengo,  and  which  served  as  a  pall  when  he  was  con- 
veyed to  the  grave  in  his  rocky  prison. 

In  the  room  adjoining,  the  principal  object  of  interest  was 
the  military  carriage  of  the  emperor,  the  same  one  in  which 
he  made  the  campaign  of  Russia,  and  which  was  captured  by 
the  Prussians  on  the  evening  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 
Here  also  is  the  carriage  used  by  him  during  his  exile  at  St. 
Helena.  Near  by  is  the  sword  worn  during  the  campaign  in 
Egypt,  his  gold  repeating  watch,  cameo  ring,  tooth-brushes, 
coffee-pot,  camp  knife,  fork,  and  spoon,  gold  snuff-box,  &c. 

But  the  most  actual  relic,  perhaps,  is  a  portion  of  the  real 
corporeal  Napoleon  himself,  being  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
one  of  his  teeth,  which  was  drawn  by  Dr.  O'Meara.  These 
relics  are  of  a  description  to  gratify  the  taste  of  the  most  in- 


190  THE  CHAMBER  OF  HORRORS. 

veterate  relic-hunter.  I  give  a  few  more  that  are  pencilled  in 
my  note-book  as  attracting  my  own  attention ;  the  atlas  that 
Bonaparte  used  many  years,  and  on  which  are  the  plans  of 
several  battles  sketched  by  his  own  hand,  —  a  most  sugges- 
tive relic  this  of  the  anxious  hours  spent  in  poring  over  it 
by  the  great  captain,  who  marked  out  on  this  little  volume 
those  plans  which  crumbled  kingdoms  and  dissolved  dynas- 
ties ;  simple  sketches  to  look  upon,  but  which  were  once 
fraught  with  the  fate  of  nations,  —  his  dessert  services,  locks 
of  his  hair,  camp  service,  shirts,  under-waistcoats,  and  linen 
handkerchiefs,  pieces  of  furniture,  &c.  Besides  this  large 
collection  of  relics  of  the  great  emperor,  there  are  a  number 
of  other  interesting  historical  relics  of  undoubted  authenticity, 
such  as  the  ribbon  of  Lord  Nelson,  a  lock  of  Wellington's 
hair,  George  IV.'s  handkerchief,  the  shirt  of  Henry  IV.  of 
France,  the  very  one  worn  by  him  when  assassinated  by 
Ravaillac,  and  stained  with  the  blood  which  followed  the 
murderous  knife,  Lord  Nelson's  coat,  the  shoe  of  Pius  VI.,  a 
ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  worn  by  Louis  Philijjpe,  coat 
and  waistcoat  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and,  in  a  glass 
case,  the  three  great  state  robes  of  George  IV.  These  are 
of  purple  and  crimson  velvet,  lined  with  ermine,  and  richly 
embroidered,  the  "  three  together  containing  five  hundred  and 
sixty-seven  feet  of  velvet  and  embroidery,"  —  so  the  catalogue 
tells  you,  —  "  and  costing  eighteen  thousand  pounds." 

The  last  department  of  this  exhibition  is  one  the  name  of 
which  is  quite  familiar,  and  often  quoted  by  American  read- 
ers, viz.,  the  Chamber  of  Horrors.  The  collection  here  is  of 
figures  of  noted  murderers  and  criminals,  said  to  be  portraits 
of  the  originals,  and  various  models  and  relics.  Perhaps  the 
most  interesting  of  the  latter  to  the  spectator  is  the  original 
knife  of  the  guillotine,  used  during  the  Reign  of  Terror  in 
Paris.  This  axe,  the  catalogue  tells  us,  was  bought  by  Ma- 
dame Tussaud  of  Sanson,  grandson  of  the  original  execu- 
tioner; and  the  now  harmless-looking  iron  blade,  that  the 
spectator  may  lay  his  hands  upon,  is  the  terrible  instrument 
that  decapitated  over  twenty  thousand  human  victims.     It 


LONDON   THEATRES.  191 

has  reeked  with  the  blood  of  the  good,  the  great,  and  the 
tyrannical  —  the  proudest  blood  of  France  and  the  basest. 
The  visitor  may  well  be  excused  a  shudder  as  his  hand 
touches  the  cold  steel  that  has  been  bathed  in  the  blood  of 
the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI.,  Marie  Antionette,  the  tyrant 
Robespierre,  and  the  thousands  of  unhappy  victims  that 
yielded  up  their  lives  beneath  its  fatal  stroke.  I  confess  that 
this  Chamber  of  Horrors  is  unpleasantly  interesting  even  to 
the  sight-seer.  I  felt  uncomfortable  the  brief  time  I  spent  there, 
breathed  freer  as  I  emerged  from  it,  and  felt  as  if  escaping 
pursuit  from  some  of  its  ruffianly  inmates  as  I  dashed  away 
through  the  throng  of  vehicles  in  a  Hansom  cab  to  my  hotel. 

Theatre-going  in  London  is  an  expensive  amusement.  In 
the  theatres  —  that  is,  the  good  and  respectable  ones  —  there 
is  no  chance  for  people  of  moderate  means,  except  the  unde- 
sirable places  that  cannot  be  filled  in  any  other  way  than  by 
selling  the  admission  at  a  rate  within  their  reach.  There  is 
no  theatre  in  London  in  size,  appointments,  and  conveniences 
equal  in  all  respects  to  the  great  ones  in  some  of  our  large 
cities,  and  nothing  that  can  compare  with  Booth's,  of  New 
York,  or  the  Globe,  of  Boston.  It  is  impossible  to  get  such 
an  entertainment  as  you  may  have  in  America  at  Booth's, 
Wallack's,  or  the  Globe  at  anything  like  the  price. 

For  instance,  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre  the  prices  are,  stalls, 
one  dollar  and  seventy-five  cents,  gold ;  dress  circle,  one  dol- 
lar and  twenty-eight  cents ;  second  ditto,  one  dollar ;  pit,  fifty 
cents ;  gallery,  twenty-five  cents.  It  should  be  understood  that 
"  stalls  "  take  in  the  whole  of  the  desirable  part  of  the  parquet, 
and  that  some  half  dozen  rows  of  extreme  back  seats,  in  the 
draught  of  the  doors,  and  almost  beyond  hearing  and  sight  of 
the  stage,  are  denominated  "  the  pit ; "  and  in  some  theatres  it 
is  a  "  pit "  indeed.  The  auditoriums  of  their  theatres  are  in  no 
way  so  clean,  well  kept,  or  bright  looking  as  those  of  leading 
American  theatres  in  New  York  and  Boston.  Even  at  the 
old  dirty  Princess's  Theatre,  where  I  saw  Shakespeare's  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra  very  handsomely  put  upon  the  stage,  and 
Miss  Glyn  as  Cleopatra,  the  orchestra  stalls  cost  one  dollar 


192  FULL  DRESS  AT  THE  OPERA. 

and  fifty  cents,  gold,  and  the  pit,  which  was  way  back  under 
the  boxes,  was  vocal  between  the  acts  with  venders  of  oranges, 
nuts,  and  ginger  beer. 

The  Lyceum  Theatre,  where  I  saw  Fechter  play,  was  a 
neat  and  well-ordered  establishment,  and  stalls,  one  dollar 
and  sixty  cents ;  upper  circle,  one  dollar ;  pit,  fifty  cents.  I 
give  the  prices  in  American  money,  gold,  that  they  may  be 
compared  with  our  own.  There  is  not  a  theatre  in  London 
where  a  performance,  and  accommodation  to  the  auditor 
equal  to  that  at  the  Boston  Museum,  can  be  had  for  three 
times  the  price  of  admission  to  that  establishment.  The 
prices  above  given  being  about  the  average  at  the  leading 
theatres,  what  does  the  reader  expect  he  will  have  to  pay  for 
the  opera  ?     Let  us  see. 

At  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  where  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
listening  to  Nilsson  in  Traviata  and  Titiens,  in  Oberon,  Fi- 
delio,  &c,  my  play-bill  informs  me  the  prices  are,  pit  stalls, 
fifteen  shillings  (about  three  dollars  and  forty  cents  in  gold), 
boxes,  two  dollars  and  a  half,  and  gallery,  sixty  cents.  The 
pit,  at  this  theatre,  consists  of  four  or  five  rows  of  narrow 
boards,  at  the  extreme  rear  of  the  parquet,  purposely  made 
as  narrow,  uncomfortable,  and  inconvenient  as  can  be,  so 
that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  sit  through  a  performance  on 
them ;  yet,  during  the  one  act  that  I  occupied  a  seat  there,  it 
was  nearly  filled  with  very  respectable  people,  in  full  dress, 
no  one  being  admitted  who  is  not  so  costumed.  I  presume 
that  the  labor  expended  to  render  these  seats  disagreeable,  is 
to  force  the  public  into  the  higher-priced  ones,  which  are  easy, 
comfortable,  and  even  luxurious,  and  where  one  may  be 
pretty  sure  that  he  is  in  the  best  society. 

An  American  lady,  who  goes  to  the  theatre  or  opera  in 
London,  must  remember  that  she  will  not  be  permitted  to 
enter  the  stalls  or  boxes  with  a  bonnet  on,  no  matter  how 
infinitesimal,  elegant,  or  expensive  it  may  be.  Full  dress 
means,  no  bonnet  for  ladies,  and  dress  coats,  dark  vests  and 
pantaloons  for  gentlemen.  A  lady  seen  passing  in  with  bon- 
net on  is  expected  to  leave  it  at  the  cloak-room,  to  be  re- 


PLAY   BILLS.  193 

deemed  by  payment  of  sixpence  on  coming  out;  and  no 
amount  of  argument  will  admit  an  independent  American 
voter,  who  comes  in  a  frock  coat  and  drab  pantaloons.  I 
saw  an  ingenious  American  once,  who  overcame  the  frock 
coat  difficulty  by  stepping  outside,  and  getting  his  companion 
to  pin  up  the  skirts  of  that  offending  garment  at  each  side, 
so  that  it  made  an  extemporaneous  "claw  hammer"  that 
passed  without  question. 

Bills  of  the  play  are  not  furnished  by  the  theatre  to  its 
patrons.  You  buy  a  big  one  for  a  penny  of  a  boy  outside 
the  theatre,  as  you  anive  at  the  door,  that  will  soil  your  kid 
gloves  with  printer's  ink ;  or  a  small  one,  for  two  or  three 
pence,  of  the  usher  inside,  who  shows  you  a  seat,  and 
"expects  something,"  as  everybody  does,  in  England.  At 
the  opera  your  bill  will  cost  you  sixpence,  for  it  is  expected 
that  "the  nobs"  who  go  there  never  carry  anything  so  base 
as  copper  in  their  pouches.  Indeed,  I  noticed  that  one  of 
the  aforesaid  ushers,  to  whom  I  handed  a  shilling,  stepped 
briskly  away,  and  omitted  to  return  me  any  change.  I 
learned  better  than  to  hand  ushers  shillings,  and  expect 
change,  after  a  few  nights'  experience,  and  had  threepences 
ready,  after  the  English  style. 

We  need  not  go  through  a  description  of  the  theatres  of 
London.  There  are  as  many  varieties,  and  more,  than  in 
New  York ;  and  you  may  go  from  the  grand  opera,  which  is 
the  best  of  that  kind  of  entertainment,  to  the  Alhambra,  a 
grand  variety  affair,  but  most  completely  got  up  in  all  depart- 
ments, or  the  cheaper  theatres,  where  the  blood-and-thunder 
drama  is  produced  for  a  shilling  or  sixpence  a  ticket. 

The  appearance  of  the  dress  circle  boxes  at  the  opera  is 
magnificent.  The  ladies  fairly  blaze  with  diamonds  and 
jewels,  while  silks,  luxurious  laces,  splendid  fans,  scarfs, 
shawls,  and  superb  costumes,  make  a  brilliant  picture  that  it 
is  interesting  to  look  upon.  The  extreme  decollete  style  of 
dress,  however,  was  most  remarkable.  I  have  seen  nothing 
to  compare  with  it,  even  at  the  Jardin  Mabille,  or  at  the  Cafes 
Chantants,  in  Paris,  where  the  performers  are  wont  to  make 
13 


194  MANAGERIAL   LIBERALITY. 

so  much  display  of  their  charms.  Upon  the  stage,  such  tin- 
dressing  of  the  neck  and  bust  would  excite  severe  criticism, 
but  in  the  fashionable  boxes  of  the  opera,  it  passes  unchal- 
lenged. 

The  liberal  encouragement  which  the  opera  receives  in 
England  enables  the  management  to  produce  it  in  far  more 
complete  and  perfect  style  than  it  is  usually  seen  in  America. 
Indeed,  some  of  the  wretched,  slipshod  performances  that 
have  been  given  under  the  name  of  grand  opera  in  America, 
would  be  hissed  from  the  stage  in  London,  Paris,  or  Italy. 
In  operatic  performances  in  America,  we  have  the  parts  of 
two  or  three  principals  well  done,  but  all  else  slipshod  and 
imperfect,  and  the  effect  of  the  opera  itself  too  frequently 
marred  by  the  outrageous  cuttings,  transpositions,  and  altera- 
tions made  by  managers  to  adapt  it  to  their  resources. 

The  production  of  the  opera  in  London  is  made  with  an 
orchestra  of  nearly  a  hundred  performers,  a  well-trained  cho- 
rus of  sixty  voices,  dresses  of  great  elegance,  and  correct  and 
appropriate  costume  and  style,  even  to  the  humblest  per- 
former. The  opera,  in  all  its  details,  is  well  performed,  and 
the  music  correctly  given;  the  scenery  and  scenic  effects 
excellent,  the  auxiliaries  abundant,  so  that  a  stage  anny 
looks  something  like  an  anny,  and  not  a  corporal's  guard ;  a 
village  festival  something  like  that  rustic  celebration,  and  not 
like  the  caperings  of  a  few  Hibernians,  who  have  plundered 
a  pawnbroker's  shop,  and  are  dancing  in  the  stolen  clothes. 

Apropos  of  amusements,  a  very  pleasant  excursion  is  it  by 
rail  to  the  Sydenham  Crystal  Palace,  where  great  cheap  con- 
certs are  given,  and  one  of  those  places  in  England  where 
the  people  can  get  so  much  amusement,  entertainment,  and 
recreation  for  so  little  money.  A  ticket,  including  admission 
to  the  palace  and  grounds,  and  passage  to  and  from  London 
on  the  railroad,  is  sold  at  a  very  low  sum,  the  entertainment 
being  generally  on  Saturdays,  which,  with  many,  is  a  half 
holiday.  Two  of  the  London  railways  unite  in  a  large,  hand- 
some station  at  Sydenham,  from  which  one  may  walk  under 
a  broad,  covered  passage  directly  into  the  palace,  this  cov- 


A  PALACE  FOB  THE  PEOPLE.  195 

ered  way  being  a  colonnade  seven  hundred  and  twenty  feet 
long,  seventeen  feet  wide,  and  twenty  feet  high,  reaching 
one  of  the  great  wings  of  the  palace. 

And  this  magnificent  structure,  its  splendid  grounds  and 
endless  museum  of  novelties,  is  a  monument  of  English  pub- 
lic spirit  and  liberality ;  for  it  was  planned,  erected,  and  the 
whole  enterprise  carried  out  by  a  number  of  gentlemen,  who 
believed  that  a  permanent  edifice,  like  the  one  which  held  the 
great  exhibition  in  Hyde  Park  in  1851,  would  be  of  great 
benefit  in  furthering  the  education  of  the  people,  and  affording 
sensible  and  innocent  recreation  at  the  cheapest  possible  rate. 
And  right  nobly  have  they  performed  their  work  in  the  pro- 
duction of  this  magnificent  structure,  which  fairly  staggers 
the  American  visitor  by  its  beauty,  as  well  as  its  vastness, 
and  its  wondrous  grace  and  lightness.  It  is  a  great  monu- 
ment of  graceful  curves  and  flashing  glass,  situated  upon  the 
summit  of  a  gradual  slope,  with  superb  broad  terraces, 
adorned  with  statues,  grand  flights  of  steps  descending  to 
elegantly  laid  out  grounds,  with  shrubs,  flowers,  trees,  foun- 
tains, ponds,  rustic  arbors,  and  beautiful  walks ;  and  these 
front  terraces  and  grounds  commanding  one  of  those  splendid 
landscape  pictures  for  which  England  is  so  celebrated. 

There  is  no  better  way  of  giving  the  reader  an  idea  of  the 
size  of  this  magnificent  structure,  than  by  mean.s  of  a  few 
figures.  The  palace  was  completed  in  1854  by  a  joint-stock 
company  of  gentlemen.  It  occupies,  with  its  gardens  and 
grounds,  about  three  hundred  acres,  and  cost,  when  com- 
pleted, with  its  gardens,  nearly  two  million  pounds  sterling. 
Think  of  the  public  being  able  to  visit  this  splendid  place 
for  one  shilling ! 

The  length  of  the  main  building  of  the  palace  is  over  six- 
teen hundred  feet ;  the  width  throughout  the  nave,  three  hun- 
dred and  twelve  feet,  which,  at  the  grand  centre,  is  increased 
to  three  hundred  and  eighty-four  feet ;  in  "addition  to.  which 
are  two  great  wings,  of  five  hundred  and  seventy-four  feet 
each ;  the  height,  from  floor  to  ceiling,  one  hundred  and  ten 
feet;  twenty-five  acres  of  glass,  weighing  five  hundred  tons, 


196  A   GIGANTIC   AUDIENCE. 

were  used  in  the  building,  and  nine  thousand  six  hundred 
and  forty-one  tons  of  iron.  Graceful  galleries  run  around  the 
sides,  and  grand  mammoth  concerts  and  other  entertainments 
are  given  in  the  central  transept,  the  arch  of  which  rises  in 
a  graceful  s}:>an  to  the  height  of  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
feet :  the  whole  of  one  end  of  this  transept  is  occupied  by 
seats,  rising  one  above  the  other,  for  the  accommodation  of 
four  thousand  performers,  who  performed  at  the  great  Handel 
Festival.  A  great  organ,  built  expressly  for  the  place,  occu- 
pies a  position  at  the  rear  of  these  orchestra  seats. 

I  was  present  at  a  grand  musical  performance  in  this  tran- 
sept, and,  from  an  elevated  seat  in  the  orchestra,  had  a  superb 
view  of  the  whole  audience  below,  which  occupied  chairs 
placed  in  the  transept;  these  chairs  which  now  faced  the 
organ  and  orchestra,  when  turned  directly  about,  would  face 
the  stage  of  a  theatre,  upon  which  other  performances  were 
given.  The  view  of  the  crowd,  from  the  elevated  position  I 
occupied,  gave  it  the  appearance  of  a  huge  variegated  flower- 
bed, and  its  size  may  be  realized  when  the  reader  is  informed 
that  there  were  eight  thousand  people  present ;  besides  these, 
there  were  between  three  and  four  thousand  more  in  different 
parts  of  the  building  and  grounds.  I  obtained  these  figures 
from  the  official  authorities,  who  informed  me  that  on  greater 
occasions,  -when  the  performance  is  more  attractive,  or  upon 
whole  holidays,  the  number  is  very  much  larger. 

The  nave  is  divided  into  sections,  or  courts ;  such  as  the 
Sheffield  Court,  Manufacturing  Court,  Glass  and  China  Court, 
Stationary  Court,  Egyptian  Court,  Italian  Court,  Renaissance 
Court,  &c.  These  courts  are  filled  with  the  products  of  the 
industry  or  art  of  the  periods  for  which  they  are  named. 
Thus,  in  the  English  Mediaeval  Court  are  splendid  reproduc- 
tions of  mediaeval  architecture,  such  as  the  elegant  doorway 
of  Rochester  Cathedral,  doorway  of  Worcester  Cathedral,  the 
splendid  Easter  sepulchre  from  Hawton  Church,  the  monu- 
ment of  Humphrey  de  Bohun  from  Hereford  Cathedral,  with 
the  effigy  of  the  knight  in  complete  armor,  and  various  archi- 
tectural specimens  from  the  ancient  churches  and  magnifi- 


A    SUFEltB   PROMENADE.  197 

cent  cathedrals  of  England,  all  exact  counterfeit  presentments, 
executed  in  a  sort  of  composition  in  imitation  of  the  original. 
The  Renaissance  Court  contains  elegant. reproductions  of  cele- 
brated specimens  of  architecture  of  that  period,  elaborate 
and  profuse  in  decoration.  Then  we  have  the  Elizabethan, 
Italian,  and  Greek  Courts,  each  a  complete  museum  in  itself 
of  reproductions  of  architecture,  and  celebrated  monuments 
of  their  periods.  The  Sheffield,  Manufacturers,  Glass  and 
China  Courts,  &c,  contain  splendid  exhibitions  of  specimens 
of  the  leading  manufacturers,  of  those  species  of  goods,  of 
some  of  the  best  products  of  their  factories. 

Stalls  are  prepared  for  the  sales  of  the  lighter  articles,  and 
attendants  are  present  at  the  different  show-cases,  or  depart- 
ments to  make  explanations,  or  take  orders  from  visitors  who 
may  be  inclined.  The  display  of  English  manufactures  was 
a  very  good  one,  and  the  opportunity  afforded  them  to  dis- 
play and  advertise  them,  well  improved  by  exhibitors.  The 
interior  of  the  palace  contains  also  a  great  variety  of  statues, 
casts,  models,  artistic  groups,  and  other  works  of  art.  The 
visitor  need  not  leave  for  refreshments,  as  large  and  well- 
served  restaurants  for  ladies  and  gentlemen  are  at  either  end 
of  the  building,  beneath  its  roof. 

Leaving  the  building  for  the  grounds,  we  first  step  out 
upon  a  great  terrace,  fifteen  hundred  and  seventy-six  feet  in 
length  and  fifty  feet  wide.  Upon  its  parapet  are  twenty-six 
allegorical  marble  statues ;  and  from  this  superb  promen- 
ade the  spectator  has  a  fine  view  of  the  charming  land- 
scape, backed  by  blue  hills  in  the  distance,  and  the  beautiful 
grounds,  directly  beneath  the  terrace,  which  are  reached  by  a 
broad  flight  of  steps,  ninety-six  feet  wide,  and  are  picturesque- 
ly laid  out.  A  broad  walk,  nearly  one  hundred  feet  wide, 
six  or  eight  fountains  throwing  up  their  sparkling  streams, 
artificial  lakes,  beds  of  gay-colored  flowers,  curious  ornamental 
temples  and  structures,  tend  to  make  the  whole  novel  and 
attractive.  After  a  stroll  in  this  garden,  visitors  may  saunter 
off  to  the  other  adjacent  grounds  at  pleasure. 

Leaving  the  gardens  directly  in  front  of  the  palace  for  the 


198  THE    PARKS    OF   LONDON. 

extensive  pleasure-grounds  connected  with  it,  we  passed 
through  a  beautiful  shaded  lane,  and  came  first  to  the  archery 
grounds,  where  groups  were  trying  their  skill  in  that  old 
English  pastime.  Not  far  from  here,  a  broad,  level  place, 
with  close-cut,  hard-rolled  turf,  was  kejDt  for  the  cricketing 
grounds,  where  groups  of  players  were  scattered  here  and 
there,  enjoying  that  game.  Near  by  are  rifle  and  pistol  shoot- 
ing galleries.  In  another  portion  of  the  grounds  is  an  angling 
and  boating  lake,  a  maze,  American  swings,  merry  go-arounds, 
and  other  amusements  for  the  people,  the  performances  of 
those  engaged  in  these  games  affording  entertainment  to 
hundreds  of  lookers-on. 

A  whole  day  may  be  very  pleasantly  and  profitably  spent 
at  the  Sydenham  Palace,  the  attractions  of  which  we  have 
given  but  the  merest  sketch  of;  and  that  they  are  appreciated 
by  the  people  is  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  the  number  of 
visitors  are  over  a  million  and  a  half  per  annum.  The  rail- 
road companies  evidently  make  a  good  thing  of  it,  and  by 
means  of  very  cheap  excursion  tickets,  especially  on  holidays, 
induce  immense  numbers  to  come  out  from  the  city. 

This  Crystal  Palace  is  the  same  one  which  stood  in  Hyde 
Park ;  only  when  it  rose  again  at  Sydenham,  it  was  with  many 
alterations  and  improvements.  It  was  a  sad  sight  to  see, 
when  we  were  there,  large  portions  of  the  northern  end,  in- 
cluding that  known  as  the  tropical  end,  —  the  Assyrian  and 
Byzantine  Courts,  —  in  ruins  from  the  effects  of  the  fire  a  few 
years  ago;  yet  that  destroyed  seems  small  in  comparison 
with  the  immense  area  still  left. 

The  parks  of  London  have  been  described  so  very  often 
that  we  must  pass  them  with  brief  allusion.  Their  vast  ex- 
tent is  what  first  strikes  the  American  visitor  with  astonish- 
ment, especially  those  who  have  moulded  their  ideas  after 
Boston  Common,  or  even  Central  Park  of  New  York.  Hydo 
Park,  in  London,  contains  three  hundred  and  ninety  acres ; 
and  we  took  a  lounge  in  Rotten  Row  at  the  fashionable 
hour,  between  five  and  six  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  drive 
was  crowded  with  stylish  equipages ;  some  with  coroneted 


ZOOLOGICAL    GARDENS.  199 

panels  and  liveried  footmen,  just  such  as  we  see  in  pictures. 
Then  there  were  numerous  equestrians,  among  whom  were 
gentlemen  mounted  upon  magnificent  blood  horses,  followed 
at  a  respectful  distance  by  their  mounted  grooms,  and  grace- 
fully tipping  their  hats  to  the  fair  occupants  of  the  carriages. 
Mounted  policemen,  along  the  whole  length  of  the  drive,  pre- 
vented any  carriage  from  getting  out  of  line  or  creating  con- 
fusion; and  really  the  display  of  splendid  equipages,  fine 
horses,  and  beautiful  women,  in  Hyde  Park,  of  an  afternoon, 
during  the  season,  is  one  of  the  sights  of  London  that  no 
stranger  should  miss. 

Every  boy  in  America,  who  is  old  enough  to  read  a  story- 
book, has  heard  of  the  Zoological  Gardens  at  Regent's  Park, 
London ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  sights  that  the  visitor,  no  matter 
how  short  his  visit,  classes  among  those  he  must  see.  This 
collection  of  natural  history  specimens  was  first  opened  to 
the  public  as  long  ago  as  1828;  it  is  one  in  which  the  Lon- 
doners take  great  pride,  and  the  Zoological  Society  expend 
large  sums  of  money  in  procuring  rare  and  good  living  speci- 
mens. Improvements  are  also  made  every  year  in  the 
grounds,  and  the  exhibition  is  now  a  most  superb  and  in- 
teresting one,  and  conducted  in  the  most  liberal  manner. 

Visitors  are  admitted  on  Mondays  at  sixjDence  each ;  on 
other  days  the  price  of  admission  is  a  shilling.  Here  one  has 
an.  opportunity  of  seeing  birds  and  animals  with  sufficient 
space  to  move  about  and  stretch  their  limbs  in,  instead  of  the 
cruelly  cramped  quarters  in  which  we  have  been  accustomed  to 
view  them  confined  in  travelling  menageries,  so  cruelly  small 
as  to  call  for  action  of  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty 
to  Animals,  to  interfere  in  behalf  of  the  poor  brutes,  who 
often  have  only  space  to  stand  up  in,  and  none  to  move  about 
in,  although  their  nature  be  one  requiring  exercise  ;  and  they 
therefore  become  poor,  spiritless  specimens,  dying  by  slow 
torture  of  close  confinement. 

Here,  however,  the  visitor  finds  different  specimens  of 
eagles,  vultures,  and  other  huge  birds,  each  in  great  cages 
twenty  feet  high,  and  nearly  as  many  square ;  owls,  hawks, 


200  GORGEOUS   BIRDS    AND    WONDERFUL   BEASTS. 

and  other  birds  of  prey,  with  cages  big  enough  to  fly  about 
in ;  ibis,  elegant  flamingoes,  pelicans,  and  water  birds,  in  large 
enclosures,  with  ponds  for  them  to  enjoy  their  favorite 
pursuits.  For  some  of  the  smaller  birds  aviaries  were  ar- 
ranged, the  size  of  a  large  room,  part  of  it  out  in  the  open 
air,  with  shrubs  and  trees,  and  the  other  half  beneath  shelter  — 
a  necessity  for  some  species  of  tropical  birds.  One,  therefore, 
might  look  upon  the  flashing  plumage  and  curious  shapes  of 
tropical  birds  flitting  among  the  trees,  and  see  all  colors  and 
every  variety  at  the  different  aviaries.  I  saw  the  sea  birds 
in  a  place  which,  by  artificial  means,  was  made  to  represent 
the  sea-shore;  there  were  rocks,  marine  plants,  sea  shells, 
sand,  and  salt  water;  and  ducks,  sandpipers,  and  gulls  dove, 
ran  and  flew  about  very  much  as  if  they  were  at  home. 
Passing  into  a  house  devoted  exclusively  to  parrots,  we  were 
almost  deafened  by  the  shrieking,  cat-calls,  whistling,  and 
screaming  of  two  or  three  hundred  of  every  hue,  size,  kind, 
and  variety  of  these  birds ;  there  were  gorgeous  fellows  with 
crimson  coronets,  and  tails  a  yard  in  length,  —  blue,  green, 
yellow,  crimson,  variegated,  black,  white,  in  fact  every  known 
color :  the  din  was  terrific,  and  the  shouting  of  all  sorts  of 
parrot  expressions  very  funny. 

The  collection  of  birds  is  very  large,  from  the  little  wren 
to  great  stalking  ostriches,  vultures,  and  bald  eagles,  and 
only  lacked  the  great  condor  of  South  America. 

The  animals  were  well  cared  for.  Here  were  a  pair  of 
huge  rhinoceroses  enjoying  themselves  in  a  large,  muddy 
pond  in  the  midst  of  their  enclosure,  a  stable  afforded  them 
dry  in-door  quarters  when  they  chose  to  go  in,  and  a  passage 
through  these  stables  enabled  visitors  always  to  see  the 
animals  when  they  were  in-doors.  Two  huge  hippopotami 
were  also  similarly  provided  for.  Next  came  several  ele- 
phants, great  and  small,  with  outer  enclosures,  where  they 
received  donations  of  buns  and  fruit,  and  stables  for  private 
life ;  also  a  splendid  specimen  of  the  giraffe,  &c. 

There  was  a  vast  collection  of  different  specimens  of  deer, 
from  the  huge  antlered  elk  to  the  graceful  little  gazelle,  the 
size  of  an  English  terrier. 


SNAKES    AND    MONKEYS.  201 

Then  we  came  to  the  bear-pits.  Here  sauntered  a  great 
polar  bear  in  a  large  enclosure,  in  which  a  tank  of  water  was 
provided  for  his  bearship  to  disport  himself;  a  long  row  of 
great  roomy  cages  of  lions,  tigers,  leopards,  and  panthers, 
with  their  supple  limbs,  sleek  hides,  and  wicked  eyes ;  a 
splendid  collection  of  the  wolf,  fox,  and  raccoon  tribe ;  speci- 
mens of  different  varieties  of  sheep ;  the  alpaca,  zebras,  cam- 
els, elands,  and  bison ;  enclosed  ponds,  with  magnificent  speci- 
mens of  water  fowl  from  all  parts  of  the  world ;  then  there 
was  the  beaver  pond,  with  his  wood,  and  his  dam,  and  hut ; 
the  seal  tank  and  otter  pond,  with  their  occupants  not  always 
in  view,  but  watched  for  by  a  curious  crowd ;  and,  near  by,  a 
house  full  of  specimens  of  armadillos,  and  other  small  and 
curious  animals. 

The  reptile  house,  with  its  collection  of  different  specimens 
of  snakes,  from  the  huge  boa  constrictor  to  the  small,  wicked- 
looking  viper,  was  not  a  pleasant  sight  to  look  upon  ;  but  one 
of  the  most  popular  departments  of  the  whole  exhibition  was 
the  monkey  house,  a  building  with  ample  space  for  displaying 
all  the  different  specimens  of  this  mischievous  little  carica- 
ture of  man.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  was  a  very  large 
cage,  fitted  up  with  rings,  ladders,  trapezes,  bars,  &c,  like  a 
gymnasium,  and  in  this  the  antics  of  a  score  of  natural  acro- 
bats kept  the  spectators,  who  are  always  numerous  in  this 
apartment,  in  a  continued  roar  of  laughter. 

Not  the  least  amusing  performance  here  was  that  of  a  huge 
old  monkey,  the  chief  of  the  cage  by  common  consent,  who, 
after  looking  sleepily  for  some  half  hour  at  the  performances 
of  his  lesser  brethren  from  the  door  of  his  hut  in  a  lefty  cor- 
ner, suddenly  descended,  and,  as  if  to  show  what  he  could  do, 
immediately  went  through  the  whole  performances  seriatim. 
He  swung  by  the  rings,  leaped  from  trapeze  to  trapeze,  swung 
from  ladder  to  bar,  leaped  from  shelf  to  shelf,  sent  small  mon- 
keys flying  and  screaming  in  every  direction,  and  then,  amid 
a  general  chattering  and  grinning,  retired  to  his  perch,  and, 
drawing  a  piece  of  old  blanket  about  his  shoulders,  looked 
calmly  down  upon  the  scene  below,  like  a  rheumatic  old  man 
at  the  antics  of  a  party  of  boys. 


202  THE    TOWEE   OF   LONDON. 

The  young  visitors  at  the  Zoological  Gardens  have  oppor- 
tunity afforded  them  to  ride  the  elephants  and  camels,  and  a 
band  plays  in  the  gardens  on  Saturdays.  Members  of  the 
society  have  access  to  a  library,  picture  gallery,  and  enjoy 
various  other  advantages  in  assistance  of  the  study  and  in- 
vestigation of  natural  history. 

The  Tower  of  London !  How  the  scenes  of  England's  his- 
tory rise  before  the  imagination,  in  which  this  old  fortress, 
palace  and  prison  by  turns,  has  figured !  It  is  a  structure  of 
which  every  part  seems  replete  with  story,  and  every  step  the 
visitor  makes  brings  him  to  some  point  that  has  an  interest 
attached  to  it  from  its  connection  with  the  history  of  the  past. 

The  Tower  has  witnessed  some  of  the  proudest  pageants  of 
England's  glory,  and  some  of  the  blackest  deeds  of  her  tyran- 
ny and  shame.  The  names  of  fair  women,  brave  men,  sol- 
diers, sages,  monarchs,  and  nobles,  — 

"  Fair  forms,  and  hoary  seers  of  ages  past,"  — 

are  twined  within  its  chronicles,  and  its  hard,  j^itiless  stones 
have  frozen  hoj:>e  into  despair  in  some  of  the  noblest  hearts 
that  ever  beat  on  English  soil. 

Here  Lady  Jane  Grey  fell  beneath  the  headsman's  axe ; 
Clarence  was  drowned  in  the  butt  of  Malmsey ;  Anne  Boleyn 
was  imprisoned,  and  later  her  proud  daughter,  Princess,  after- 
wards Queen,  Elizabeth,  passed  a  prisoner  through  the  water- 
gate  ;  Buckingham,  Stafford,  William  Wallace,  Essex,  Eliza- 
beth's favorite,  Lord  Bacon,  Cranmer,  Latimer,  and  Ridley 
heard  its  gates  clang  behind  them ;  King  Henry  VI.  and  the 
princes  were  murdered  here  by  Richard  III.'s  orders.  But 
why  continue  the  catalogue  of  names,  of  deeds,  and  of  scenes 
that  come  thronging  into  one's  mind  as  we  approach  this  an- 
cient pile,  that  is  invested  with  more  historic  interest  than 
any  other  European  palace  or  prison  ? 

Its  foundation  dates  back  to  the  time  of  Caesar,  and  one 
of  the  towers  is  called  Caesar's  Tower  to  this  day,  thougli 
the  buildings,  as  they  now  stand,  were  commenced  in  the 
time  of  William  the  Conqueror. 

Shakespeare  has  made  this  grim  fortress  so  prominent  a 


THE    TOWEB   GUARD.  203 

picture  in  his  plays,  that,  with  the  same  fancy  that  one  looks 
for  Shylock  to-day  upon  the  crowded  Rialto,  does  the  vis- 
itor, on  approaching  the  Tower,  shudder  as  if  he  were  to  en- 
counter the  crooked  form  of  Gloucester,  or  hear,  in  the  dark 
passages,  the  mournful  wail  of  the  spirits  of  the  two  innocent 
princes,  torn  from  their  mother's  arms,  and  dying  by  his  cruel 
mandate. 

We  sought  the  Tower  on  foot,  but  soon  becoming  entangled 
in  a  maze  of  crooked,  narrow,  and  dirty  streets,  which  doubt- 
less might  be  very  interesting  to  the  antiquarian,  but  rather 
disagreeable  to  the  stranger,  Ave  were  glad  to  hail  a  cab,  and 
be  driven  down  to  it.  Here  we  found  that  the  Tower  of 
London  was  a  great  fortress,  Avith  over  thirteen  acres  enclosed 
within  its  outer  Avail  and  the  principal  citadel,  or  White  ToAver, 
as  it  is  called,  Avith  its  one  round  and  three  square  steeples,  the 
most  prominent  one  in  view  on  approaching,  and  in  appear- 
ance that  which  many  of  us  are  familiar  with  from  engravings. 

There  are  no  less  than  thirteen  towers  in  the  enclosure,  viz. : 
the  Bloody  ToAver,  the  Bell  ToAver,  Beauchamp  ToAver, 
De\'ereux  ToAver,  Flint  ToAver,  BoAvyer  ToAver,  Brick  ToAver, 
JeAvel  ToAver,  Constable  ToAver,  Salt  Tower,  Record  ToAver, 
and  Broad  Arrow  ToAver.  We  come  to  the  entrance  gate, 
where  visitors  are  received,  and  Avait  in  a  little  office  until 
-  twelve  are  assembled,  or  a  warder  will  take  charge  of  a  party 
every  half  hour  to  go  the  rounds.  The  site  of  this  building 
was  where  the  lions  were  formerly  kept.  The  warders,  in 
their  costume  of  yeomen  of  the  guard  of  Henry  VIIUs 
time,  are  among  the  curiosities  of  the  place.  Their  uniform, 
consistiug  of  a  low-croAvned  velvet  hat,  surrounded  by  a  sort  of 
garland,  a  broad  ruff  about  the  neck,  and  dark-blue  frock,  or 
tunic,  Avith  the  crown,  rose,  shamrock,  and  thistle  on  the 
breast,  and  other  embroidery  upon  the  skirts,  flaps,  and  belts, 
with  trunks  gathered  at  the  knee  with  a  gay-colored  rosette, 
tight  silk  stockings  and  rosetted  shoes,  looked  oddly  enough, 
and  as  if  some  company  of  supernumeraries,  engaged  for  a 
grand  theatrical  spectacle,  had  come  out  in  open  daylight. 
These  warders  are  principally  old  soldiers,  Avho  receive  the 
position  as  a  reward  for  bravery  or  faithful  service. 


204  traitor's  gate  and  armory. 

The  Tower  is  open  to  visitors  from  ten  to  four ;  the  fee  of 
admission  sixpence,  and  sixpence  more  is  charged  for  admis- 
sion to  the  depository  of  the  crown  jewels;  conspicuous 
placards  inform  the  visitor  that  the  warders  have  no  right  to 
demand  or  receive  any  further  fee  from  visitors ;  but  who  has 
ever  travelled  in  England,  and  gone  sight-seeing  there,  but 
knows  this  to  be,  if  he  is  posted,  an  invitation  to  try  the 
power  of  an  extra  shilling  when  occasion  occurs,  and  which 
he  generally  finds  purchases  a  desirable  addition  to  his  com- 
fort and  enjoyment? 

However,  on  we  go,  having  purchased  tickets  and  guide- 
books, following  the  warder,  who  repeats  the  set  description, 
that  he  has  recited  so  often,  in  a  tedious,  monotonous  tone, 
from  which  he  is  only  driven  by  the  curious  questions  of 
eager  Yankees,  often  far  out  of  his  de])th  in  the  way  of 
knowledge  of  what  certain  rooms,  towers,  gates,  and  pas- 
sages are  noted  for.  We  hurried  on  over  the  moat  bridge, 
and  halted  to  look  at  Traitor's  Gate ;  and  I  even  descended  to 
stand  upon  the  landing-steps  where  so  many  illustrious  pris- 
oners had  stepped  from  the  barge  on  their  way  to  the  prisons. 
Sidney,  Russell,  Cranmer,  and  More  had  landed  here,  and 
Anne  Boleyn's  dainty  feet,  and  Elizabeth's  high-heeled  slip- 
pers pressed  its  damp  stones.  On  we  pass  by  the  different 
towers,  the  warder  desirous  of  our  seeing  what  appears  to 
him  (an  old  soldier)  the  lion  of  the  place  —  the  armory  of 
modern  weapons,  which  we  are  straightway  shown.  Thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  weapons  —  pistols,  swords,  cutlasses, 
and  bayonets — are  kept  here,  the  small  arms  being  arranged 
most  ingeniously  into  a  number  of  astonishing  figures.  Here 
were  the  Prince  of  Wales's  triple  feather  in  glittering  bayonets, 
a  great  sunburst  made  wholly  of  ramrods,  a  huge  crown  of 
swords,  and  stars,  and  Maltese  crosses  of  pistols  and  bayonets ; 
the  serried  rows  of  muskets,  rifles,  and  small  arms  in  the 
great  hall  would  have  equipped  an  army  of  a  hundred 
thousand. 

But  we  at  last  got  into  the  Beauchamp,  or  "Beechum" 
Tower,  as  our  guide  called  it ;  and  here  we  began  to  visit  the 


martyrs'  autograpiis.  205 

prisons  of  the  unhappy  captives  that  have  fretted  their  proud 
spirits  in  this  gloomy  fortress.  Upon  the  walls  of  the  guarded 
rooms  they  occupied  they  have  left  inscriptions  and  sculpture 
wrought  with  rude  instruments  and  infinite  toil,  during  the 
tedious  hours  of  their  imprisonment.  Here  is  an  elaborate 
carving,  by  Dudley,  Earl  of  Warwick,  brother  to  the  Lord 
Dudley  who  married  Lady  Jane  Grey.  It  is  a  shield,  bearing 
the  Lion,  Bear,  and  Ragged  Staff,  and  surrounded  by  a  wreath 
of  oak  leaves,  roses,  and  acorns,  all  cut  in  the  stone,  and  under- 
neath an  inscription,  in  Old  English  letters,  stating  that  his  four 
brothers  were  imprisoned  here.  In  another  room  is  the  word 
Jane  cut,  which  is  said  to  refer  to  Lady  Jane  Grey,  and  to  have 
been  cut  by  her  husband.  Marmaduke  Neville  has  cut  his  name 
in  the  pitiless  stone,  and  a  cross,  bleeding  heart,  skeleton,  and 
the  word  Peverel,  wrought  under  it,  tell  us  that  one  of  the 
Peverels  of  Devonshire  has  been  confined  here :  over  the  fire- 
place the  guide  points  us  to  the  autograph  of  Philip  How- 
ard, Earl  of  Arundel,  who  was  beheaded  in  1572  for  aspiring 
to  the  hand  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.  Arthur  Poole,  who  con- 
spired to  place  Mary  on  the  English  throne,  left  an  inscription 
"I.  H.  S.  A  passage  perillus  makethe  a  port  pleasant."  1568. 
A.  Poole.  Numerous  other  similar  mementos  are  shown, 
cut  in  the  walls  of  the  apartments  of  this  tower,  the  work  of 
the  prisoners  who  formerly  occupied  them,  and  the  names 
thus  left  are  often  those  who  figure  in  English  history. 

In  the  "White  Tower  we  were  shown  a  room,  ten  by  eight, 
receiving  light  only  from  the  entrance,  which,  it  is  stated,  was 
one  of  the  rooms  occupied  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  that  in 
it  he  wrote  his  History  of  the  World.  Right  in  front  of  this, 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  stands  the  beheading-block  that 
has  been  used  on  Tower  Hill,  and  the  executioner's  axe  be- 
side it,  which,  in  Elizabeth's  reign,  severed  Essex's  head  from 
his  body.  The  block  bears  the  marks  of  service  in  the  shape 
of  more  than  one  dint  from  the  weapon  of  death.  Some  idea 
of  the  strength  of  this  tower,  and  its  security  as  a  prison,  may 
be  had  from  the  walls,  which  are  from  twelve  to  fourteen  feet 
in  thickness.     In  this  White  Tower  is  the  great  Council  Cham- 


206  THE    SILVER   KEY. 

ber  of  the  early  English  kings,  and  here,  beneath  the  great, 
massive-timbered  roof,  we  stand  where  King  Richard  II. 
resigned  his  crown  to  Bolingbroke,  in  1399.  We  pass  on 
to  the  Brick  Tower,  another  prison,  where  Raleigh  was 
once  confined  —  Raleigh,  the  friend  of  Bacon  and  Shake- 
speare, who  here  spent  the  last  ten  days  of  his  life,  and  many 
a  weary  year  before.  But  we  found  there  was  one  tower, 
among  others,  that  was  not  visited  by  the  guide  with  our 
party;  it  was  the  one  of  all  others  we  wished  to  see — • 
the  Bloody  Tower. 

"We  are  not  hallowed  to  show  that,"  said  our  guide,  in 
response  to  our  solicitations. 

"  Is  it  not  possible  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  low  tone,  putting  one 
hand  into  my  pocket,  jingling  some  loose  silver,  and  looking 
the  burly  warder  in  the  eye,  as  I  fell  back  a  little  from  the 
rest  of  the  party. 

"Hi  couldn't  say  really,  but  (sotto  voce,  as  a  shilling 
dropped  into  his  palm,  that  was  conveniently  orcen  behind 
him)  hif  you'll  lag  be'ind  the  party  when  they  go  out,  I'll 
see  what  can  be  done." 

We  took  occasion  to  follow  the  warder's  hint,  and  after  he 
had  conducted  the  others  to  the  gate,  he  returned,  and  took 
us  to  the  room  over  the  entrance-gate  in  which  the  princes 
were  lodged,  and  where,  by  their  uncle's  order,  they  were 
smothered.  This  little  room  —  about  twel/e  feet  square  — 
has  an  inner  window,  through  which,  it  is  said,  Tyrell,  the 
crook-back  tyrant's  instrument,  looked,  after  the  murder  had 
been  done  by  his  hired  ruffians,  to  be  sure  that  his  master's 
fell  purpose  was  complete.  This  room,  small  as  it  was,  had  a 
pleasant  outlook,  commanding  views  of  the  interior  of  the 
Tower  wards  and  gardens  —  in  fact,  it  used  to  be  called  Gar- 
den Tower  —  and  the  Thames  River.  The  stairs  leading 
from  this  part  of  the  Tower  to  the  gateway  were  shown  us, 
and  the  place,  not  far  from  their  foot,  where  the  supposed  re- 
mains of  these  unfortunate  princes  were  afterwards  discovered, 
and  removed  and  interred  at  Westminster  Abbey. 

After  seeing  various  dismal  vaults  and   cells,  which  our 


SITE*  OF    TIIE    SCAFFOLD.  207 

guide,  desirous  of  showing  his  appreciation  of  our  bounty, 
conducted  us  to  beneath  the  towers,  holding  his  candle  to 
show  the  carving  made  by  wretched  prisoners  by  the  dim 
light  that  struggled  in  when  they  were  confined  there,  he 
took  us  to  one,  his  description  of  which  rather  shook  our  faith 
in  his  veracity.  It  was  a  small,  arched  cell,  about  ten  feet 
high,  and  not  more  than  four  feet  deep,  without  grating, 
window,  or  aperture,  except  a  door. 

"  This,"  said  he,  swinging  open  the  huge  iron-strapped  and 
bolted  door,  "  this  was  Guy  Fawkes's  dungeon ;  he  was  con- 
fined here  three  days,  with  no  more  light  and  h'air  than  he 
could  get  through  the  key-'ole." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  no  man  could  live  in  that  cell  half  a  day ; 
he  would  die  for  lack  of  air." 

"  But,"  said  our  cicerone,  depreciatingly,  "  your  Aonor 
doesn't  consider  the  size  of  the  key-'ole." 

No,  but  we  did  the  size  of  the  story,  and  felt  convinced 
that  we  were  getting  a  full  shilling's  worth  extra. 

But  if  there  were  any  doubt  about  the  Guy  Fawkes  cell, 
there  was  none  about  many  other  points  of  historical  interest, 
which,  after  learning  the  names  of  a  few  of  the  principal  ones, 
could  be  easily  located  by  those  familiar  with  the  history  of 
the  Tower,  and  even  by  those  of  us  who  only  carried  some 
of  the  leading  events  of  England's  history  in  mind.  One 
of  these  points  was  a  little  enclosed  square,  in  front  of  St. 
Peter's  Chapel,  in  the  open  space  formed  by  that  edifice  on 
one  side,  Beauchamp  Tower  on  the  other,  and  the  White 
Tower  on  the  third,  in  the  place  known  as  Tower  Green. 
This  little  square,  of  scarce  a  dozen  feet,  railed  with  iron  to 
guard  the  bright  greensward  from  profane  tread,  is  the  spot 
on  which  stood  the  scaffold,  where,  on  the  19th  of  May,  1536, 
Anne  Boleyn  bent  her  fair  head  to  the  block;  the  fall  of 
which  beneath  one  blow  of  the  executioner's  sword,  was  an- 
nounced by  the  discharge  of  a  gun  from  the  Tower  ramparts, 
'  so  that  her  husband,  that  savage  and  brutal  British  king, 
who  was  hunting  in  Epping  Forest,  might  be  apprised  that 
she  had  yielded  up  her  life ;  and  history  tells  us  that  this  royal 


208  AMBITIOUS    VICTIMS. 

brute  of  the  sixteenth  century  returned  that  very  evening 
gayly  from  the  chase,  and  on  the  following  morning  married 
Jane  Seymour. 

Here,  also,  upon  the  earth  enclosed  in  the  little  square 
round  which  Ave  were  standing,  poured  forth  the  precious 
blood  of  Bloody  Mary's  victim,  Lady  Jane  Grey;  here  is 
where,  after  saying  to  the  executioner,  "  I  pray  you  despatch 
me  quickly,"  she  knelt  down,  groped  for  the  fatal  block,  bent 
her  innocent  neck,  and  passed,  with  holy  words  upon  her 
lips,  into  that  land  where  opposing  creeds  shall  not  harass, 
nor  royal  ambition  persecute. 

Here  also  was  that  murder  (it  could  not  be  called  execu- 
tion) done  by  order  of  Henry  VIII.  on  the  Countess  of 
Salisbury,  a  woman,  seventy  years  of  age,  condemned  to 
death  without  any  form  of  trial  whatever ;  who,  conscious  of 
her  innocence,  refused  to  place  her  head  upon  the  block. 
"  So  traitors  used  to  do,  and  I  am  no  traitor,"  said  the  brave 
old  countess,  as  she  struggled  fiercely  with  her  murderers, 
till,  weak  and  bleeding  from  the  soldiers'  pikes,  she  was 
dragged  to  the  block  by  her  gray  hair,  held  down  till  the  ex- 
ecutioner performed  his  office,  and  the  head  of  the  last  of  the 
Plantagenets,  the  daughter  of  the  murdered  Clarence,  fell; 
and  another  was  added  to  the  list  of  enormities  committed 
by  the  bloated  and  sensual  despot  who  wielded  the  sceptre 
of  England. 

The  soil  within  this  little  enclosure  is  rich  with  the  blood 
of  the  innocent  victims  of  royal  tyranny;  and  it  was  not 
astonishing  that  we  lingered  here  beyond  the  patience  of 
our  guide. 

The  collection  of  ancient  armor  and  arms  at  the  Tower  is 
one  of  great  interest,  especially  that  known  as  the  Horse 
Armory,  which  contains,  besides  a  large  and  curious  collection 
of  portions  of  armor  and  weapons,  a  great  number  of  equestri- 
an figures,  fully  armed  and  equipped  in  suits  of  armor  of 
various  periods  between  Edward  I.,  1272,  and  the  death  of 
James  I.,  1G25.  This  building  is  over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  long,  by  about  thirty-five  wide,  and   is  occupied  by  a 


KNIGHTS   IN   ARMOR.  209 

double  row  of  these  figures,  whose  martial  and  life-like  ap- 
pearance  almost  startles  the  visitor  as  he  steps  in  amid  this 
warlike  array  of  mailed  knights,  all  in  the  different  attitudes 
of  the  tilting-ground  or  battle-field,  silent  and  immovable  as 
if  they  had  suddenly  been  checked  in  mid  career  by  a  touch 
from  the  wand  of  some  powerful  enchanter. 

Here,  in  flexible  chain-mail  hood,  shirt,  and  spurs,  stands 
the  effigy  of  Edward  I.  (1272),  the  king  in  the  act  of  draw- 
ing his  sword ;  and  clad  in  this  armor  were  the  knights  who 
were  borne  to  the  earth  on  the  fields  of  Dunbar  and  Ban- 
nockburn.  Next  rides  at  full  tilt,  with  lance  in  rest,  and 
horse's  head  defended  by  spiked  chanfron,  and  saddle  decorat- 
ed with  the  king's  badges,  Edward  IV.,  1483 ;  then  we  have 
the  armor  worn  in  the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  and  at  Bosworth 
Field;  here  a  suit  worn  by  a  swordsman  in  Henry  VII.'s 
time,  about  1487 ;  next,  a  powerful  charger,  upon  the  full 
leap,  bears  the  burly  figure  of  Henry  VIII.,  in  a  splendid 
suit  of  tilting  armor,  inlaid  with  gold:  this  suit  is  one 
which  is  known  to  have  belonged  to  the  tyrant;  a  sword  is 
at  the  side  of  the  figure,  and  the  right  hand  grasps  an  iron 
mace.  A  splendid  suit  of  armor  is  that  of  a  knight  of  Ed- 
ward VI.'s  time  (1552),  covered  all  over  with  beautiful 
arabesque  work,  inlaid  with  gold,  and  a  specimen  of  work- 
manship which,  it  seemed  to  me,  any  of  our  most  skilful 
jewellers  of  the  present  day  might  be  proud  of. 

Then  we  have  the  very  suit  of  armor  that  was  worn  by 
Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester,  which  is  profusely  dec- 
orated with  that  oft-mentioned  badge  of  the  Dudleys,  the 
Bear  and  Ragged  Staff,  that  they  appeared  to  be  so  fond  of 
cutting,  carving,  stamping,  and  engraving  upon  everything 
of  theirs,  movable  and  immovable.  His  initials,  R.  D.,  are 
also  engraved  on  the  knee-guards.  The  mounted  figure  of 
Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex,  1581,  in  his  splendid  suit 
of  gilt  armor;  effigy  of  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  riding, 
rapier  in  hand,  in  the  armor  made  for  him  in  the  year  1612 
—  a  splendid  suit,  engraved  and  adorned  with  representations 
of  battle  scenes ;  the  armor  made  for  King  Charles  I.  when 
14 


210  CURIOUS   WEAPONS. 

a  youth;  James  II.,  1685,  in  Ms  own  armor.  Besides  these 
were  numerous  other  figures,  clad  in  suits  of  various  periods. 
One  very  curious  was  a  suit  wrought  in  Henry  VIII.'s  time, 
which  was  composed  entirely  of  movable  splints,  and  almost 
as  flexible  as  an  overcoat ;  a  figure  clad  in  splendid  plated 
armor,  time  of  Henry  VII.,  with  ancient  sword  in  hand, 
battle-axe  at  the  saddle-bow,  and  the  horse  protected  by 
armor  in  front  —  the  whole  figure  a  perfect  realization  of  the 
poet's  and  artist's  idea  of  a  brave  knight  sheathed  in  gleam- 
ing steel. 

The  curious  old  implements  of  war,  from  age  to  age,  illus- 
trate the  progress  that  was  made  in  means  for  destroying  human 
life;  and  the  period  of  the  invention  of  gunpowder  is  marked 
by  the  change  which  takes  place  in  the  character  of  the 
weapons.  Here  we  were  shown  the  English  "bill,"  which 
the  sturdy  soldiers  used  with  such  effect  when  they  got 
within  striking  distance  of  the  enemy;  a  ball  armed  with 
protruding  iron  spikes,  and  hitched  by  a  chain  to  a  long  pole, 
and  used  flail-like,  denominated  the  "morning  star,"  we 
should  think  would  have  created  as  much  damage  among 
friends  as  foes  on  the  battle-field ;  then  there  was  a  curious 
contrivance,  called  the  catch-pole  —  a  sort  of  iron  fork,  Avith 
springs,  for  pulling  a  man  off  his  horse  by  the  head ;  battle- 
axes,  halberds,  English  pikes,  partisans,  cross-bows,  with  their 
iron  bolts,  long  bows,  a  series  of  helmets  from  1320  down  to 
1685  —  a  very  curious  collection.  Then  we  have  the  collec- 
tion of  early  fire-arms,  petronel,  match-lock,  wheel-lock,  and, 
among  others,  a  veritable  revolver  pistol  of  Henry  VIII.'s 
tims  —  an  ancient,  rude-looking  affair,  and  from  which,  we 
were  told  b y  the  guide,  "  Colonel  Colt,  of  the  American  army," 
borrowed  his  idea. 

"  So  you  see,  sir,  the  -Hamerican  revolver  is  nothink  new  — 
Aonly  a  hold  -ffcnglish  Aidea,  /tarfter  Aall." 

This  prodigious  broadside  of  h's  was  unanswerable.  So 
we  said  nothing,  and  shall  look  for  the  English  model  from 
which  the  American  sewing-machine  was  invented. 

Of  course,  there  is  no  one  who  will  think  of  visiting  the 


TIIE    REGALIA   OF   ENGLAND.  211 

Tower  without  seeing  the  regalia  of  England,  which  are 
kept  here  in  their  own  especial  stronghold,  entitled  the  Jewel 
Tower.  It  is  astonishing  to  see  the  awe  and  wonder  with 
which  some  of  the  common  people  look  upon  these  glittering 
emblems  of  royalty,  which  they  seem  to  regard  with  a  ven- 
eration little  short  of  the  sovereign. 

The  royal  crown  is  a  cap  of  rich  purple  velvet,  enclosed  in 
hoops  of  silver,  and  surmounted  by  a  ball  and  cross  cf  splen- 
did diamonds.  The  Prince  of  Wales's  crown  is  a  simple 
pure  gold  crown,  without  jewels.  The  queen's  diadem,  as  it 
is  called,  is  an  elegant  affair,  rich  in  huge  diamonds  and 
pearls.  This  crown  was  made  for  the  consort  of  James  II. 
St.  Edward's  crown,  shaped  like  the  regular  English  crown, 
—  with  which  we  are  all  familiar,  from  seeing  it  represented 
in  the  arms  of  England,  and  upon  British  coin,  —  is  of  gold, 
and  magnificent  with  diamonds,  rubies,  pearls,  emeralds,  and 
other  precious  stones.  Here  we  also  have  sight  of  the  other 
paraphernalia  of  royalty,  which,  to  American  visitors,  looks 
somewhat  theatrical  and  absurd,  and  continually  suggest  the 
thought  of  what  empty  pageants  are  the  parade  and  mum- 
meries of  kings  and  princes.  Here  is  the  royal  sceptre,  a 
rod  formed  of  gold,  and  richly  adorned  with  jewels,  sur- 
mounted by  a  cross,  which  is  placed  in  the  right  hand  of  the 
sovereign  at  coronations;  and  the  rod  of  equity,  another 
sceptre,  ornamented  with  diamonds,  and  surmounted  with  a 
dove  Avith  outstretched  wings,  which  is  placed  in  the  left 
hand ;  a  queen's  sceptre,  richly  ornamented  with  jewels ;  the 
ivory  sceptre  of  James  II.'s  queen ;  and  the  elegantly-wrc light 
golden  one  made  for  Mary,  queen  of  William  III. ;  swords  of 
Justice  and  Mercy,  coronation  bracelets,  spurs,  anointing  ves- 
sels, baptismal  font,  spoons,  salt-cellars,  dishes,  and  numerous 
other  —  coronation  tools,  I  must  call  them,  reminding  one,  as 
they  lay  there  spread  out  to  view  in  their  iron  cage,  of  one 
of  those  displays  of  bridal  presents  at  an  American  wedding, 
where  the  guest  wonders  at  the  ingenuity  of  the  silversmith 
in  producing  so  many  articles  for  which,  until  he  sees  them, 
and  is  told  what  they  are  designed  for,  he  could  not  imagine 
a  use  could  be  found. 


212  st.  paul's. 

From  the  blaze  of  diamonds  and  precious  stones,  and  the 
yellow  glitter  of  beaten  gold,  we  turned  away  to  once  more 
walk  through  the  historic  old  fortress,  and  examine  the  rec- 
ord that  is  left  behind  of  the  part  it  has  played  of  palace, 
fortress,  and  prison. 

The  tourist  gets  but  a  confused  idea  of  the  Tower  in  one 
visit,  hurried  along  as  he  is  by  the  warder,  who  repeats  his 
monotonous,  set  descriptions,  with  additions  and  emendations 
of  his  own,  and  if  he  be  not  "  i'  the  vein,"  omitting,  I  fancy, 
6ome  portion  of  the  regular  round,  to  save  himself  trouble, 
especially  if  an  extra  douceur  has  not  been  dropped  into  his 
itching  palm.  Then  there  are  Avalks,  passages,  windows,  and 
apartments,  all  celebrated  in  one  way  or  another,  which  are 
passed  by  without  notice,  from  the  fact  that  a  full  description 
would  occupy  far  too  much  time,  but  which,  if  you  should 
happen  to  have  an  old  Londoner,  with  a  liking  for  antiquity, 
with  you,  to  point  them  out,  and  have  read  up  pretty  well 
the  history  of  the  Tower,  you  find  are  material  enhancing  the 
pleasure  of  the  visit. 

I  suppose  St.  Paul's  Church,  in  London,  may  be  called  the 
twin  sight  to  the  Tower;  and  so  we  will  visit  that  noted  old 
monument  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren's  architectural  skill  next. 
In  looking  at  London  en  masse,  from  any  point,  —  that  is,  as 
much  of  it  as  one  can  see  at  once,  —  the  great  dome  of  St. 
Paul's  stands  out  a  most  prominent  landmark,  its  huge  globe 
rising  to  the  height  of  three  hundred  and  sixty  feet. 

We  used  to  read  an  imprint,  in  our  young  days,  stamped 
upon  a  toy-book,  containing  wonderful  colored  pictures, 
which  communicated  the  fact  that  it  was  sold  by  Blank  & 
Blank,  Stationers,  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  London,  and  won- 
dered why  bookstores  were  kept  in  burial-grounds  in  Lon- 
don. We  found,  on  coming  to  London,  that  St.  Paul's  stood 
in  the  midst  of  a  cemetery,  and  that  the  street  or  square 
around  and  facing  it  —  probably  once  a  part  of  the  old  cem- 
etery —  is  called  St.  Paul's  Churchyard ;  a  locality,  Ave  take 
occasion  to  mention,  that  is  noted  for  its  excellent  shops  for 
cheap  dry  goods  and  haberdashery,  or  such  goods  as  ladies 


old  st.  Paul's.  213 

in  America  buy  at  thread  stores,  and  which  can  generally  be 
bought  here  a  trifle  cheaper  than  at  other  localities  in  Lon- 
don. St.  Paul's  Churchyard  is  also  noted  for  several  excel- 
lent lunch  or  refreshment  rooms  for  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
similar,  in  some  respects,  to  American  confectionery  shops, 
except  that  at  these,  "which  are  designated  "pastry-cooks," 
cakes,  cold  meats,  tarts,  sherry  wine,  and  ale  may  be  had ; 
and  I  can  bear  witness,  from  personal  experience,  that  the 
quality  of  the  refreshment,  and  the  prices  charged  at  the 
well-kept  pastry-cooks'  shops  of  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  are 
such  as  will  satisfy  the  most  exacting  taste. 

The  present  St.  Paul's,  which  was  completed  in  1710,  can 
hardly  be  called  Old  St.  Paul's.  The  first  one  built  on  this 
site  was  that  in  610,  by  Ethelbert,  King  of  Kent,  which  was 
burned,  as  was  also  its  successor,  which  received  large  estates 
from  the  Conqueror.  But  the  Old  St.  Paul's  we  read  so 
much  about  in  novel  and  story,  was  the  great  cathedral  im- 
mediately preceding  this  one,  which  was  six  hundred  and 
ninety  feet  long,  one  hundred  and  thirty  broad,  was  built  in 
the  form  of  a  cross,  and  sent  a  spire  up  five  hundred  and 
twenty  feet  into  the  air,  and  a  tower  two  hundred  and  sixty 
feet ;  which  contained  seventy-six  chapels,  and  maintained 
two  hundred  priests ;  from  which  the  pomp  and  ceremony  of 
the  Romish  church  vanished  before  the  advance  of  the  Ref- 
ormation ;  which  was  desecrated  by  the  soldiery  in  civil  war, 
and  finally  went  down  into  a  heap  of  smouldering  ruins  in 
1666,  after  an  existence  of  twTo  hundred  and  twenty  years. 
That  was  the  Old  St.  Paul's  of  ancient  story,  and  of  W.  Har- 
rison Ainsworth's  interesting  historical  novel,  which  closes 
with  an  imaginative  description  of  its  final  destruction  by  the 
great  fire  of  London. 

Sir  Christopher  Wren,  the  architect,  and  grand  old  Free 
and  Accepted  Mason,  built  the  present  St.  Paul's,  laying  the 
corner-stone  in  1675,  and  the  cap-stone  in  the  lantern  in  1710 
—  a  thirty-five  years'  piece  of  work  by  one  architect,  and 
most  ably  and  faithfully  was  it  done.  App  ropriate,  indeed, 
therefore,. is  the  epitaph  that  is  inscribed  on  the  plain,  broad 


214  HISTORIC    STREETS. 

slab  that  marks  his  last  resting-place  in  the  crypt  on  the  spot 
where  the  Irish  altar  of  the  old  cathedral  once  stood.  Be- 
neath  this  slab,  we  are  told,  rests  the  builder ;  but  "  if  ye  seek 
his  monument,  look  around  you."  The  corner-stone  of  St. 
Paul's  was  laid  with  masonic  ceremonies,  and  the  trowel  and 
mallet  used  on  the  occasion  are  still  preserved  by  the  lodge 
whose  members  at  that  time  officiated. 

It  is  impossible  to  get  a  complete  general  view  of  the  whole 
of  St.  Paul's  at  once,  it  is  so  hemmed  in  here  in  the  oldest 
and  most  crowded  part  ot  London.  Here,  all  around  us  were 
streets  whose  very  names  had  the  ring  of  old  English  history. 
Watling  Street,  a  narrow  lane,  but  old  as  Anglo-Saxon  times ; 
Newgate,  where  the  old  walls  of  London  stood,  is  near  at 
hand,  and  Cannon  Street,  which  runs  into  St.  Paul's  church- 
yard, contains  the  old  London  Stone,  once  called  the  central 
point  of  the  city,  from  which  distances  were  measured ;  Lud- 
gate  Hill,  little  narrow  Paternoster  Row,  Cheapside,  and 
Old  Bailey  are  close  by,  and  a  few  steps  will  take  you  into 
Fleet  Street,  St.  Martins  le  Grand,  or  Bow  Lane.  You  feel 
that  here,  in  whatever  direction  you  turn,  you  are  in  old  Lon- 
don indeed,  near  one  of  the  solid,  old,  historical,  and  curious 
parts  of  it,  that  figure  in  the  novels  and  histories,  and  with 
which  you  mentally  shake  hands  as  with  an  old  acquaintance 
whom  you  have  long  known  by  correspondence,  but  now  meet 
face  to  face  for  the  first  time. 

St.  Paul's  is  built  of  what  is  called  Portland  stone ;  original- 
ly, I  should  suppose,  rather  light  colored,  but  now  grimed 
with  the  universal  blacking  of  London  smoke.  The  best 
view  of  the  exterior  is  from  Ludgate  Hill,  a  street  approach- 
ing its  western  front,  from  which  a  view  of  the  steps  leading 
to  the  grand  entrance  and  the  statues  in  front  of  it  is  ob- 
tained. 

One  does  not  realize  the  huge  proportions  of  this  great- 
church  till  he  walks  about  it.  Its  entire  length,  from  east  to 
west,  is  five  hundred  feet ;  the  breadth  at  the  great  western 
entrance,  above  referred  to,  is  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet, 
and  at  the  transept  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet.    The  entire 


IMMENSITY    OF    ST.    PAUL'S.  215 

circumference  of  the  church,  as  I  was  told  by  the  loquacious 
guide  who  accompanied  me,  was  two  thousand  two  hundred 
and  ninety-five  feet,  and  it  covers  two  acres  of  ground.  These 
figures  will  afford  the  reader  opportunity  for  comparison,  and 
give  some  idea  of  its  immensity.  The  height  of  the  cross  on 
the  dome  is  three  hundred  and  sixty  feet  from  the  street,  and 
the  diameter  of  the  great  dome  itself  is  one  hundred  and 
eighty  feet. 

There  is  ever  so  much  that  is  curious  and  interesting  to 
see  in  St.  Paul's,  and,  like  many  other  celebrated  places,  the 
visitor  ascertains  that  it  cannot  be  seen  in  the  one,  hurried, 
tourist  visit  that  is  generally  given  to  them,  especially  if  one 
wishes  to  give  an  intelligible  description  to  friends,  or  convey 
his  idea  to  those  who  have  not  had  the  opportunity  of  visit- 
ing it.  For  my  own  part,  it  was  a  second  visit  to  these  old 
churches  I  used  most  to  enjoy,  when,  with  local  guide-book 
and  pencil  in  hand,  after  perhaps  refreshing  memory  by  a 
peep  the  night  before  into  English  history,  I  took  a  two  or 
three  hours'  quiet  saunter  among  the  aisles,  the  old  crypts,  or 
beneath  the  lofty,  quiet  old  arches,  or  among  the  monuments, 
when  I  could  have  time  to  read  the  whole  inscription,  and 
pause,  and  think,  and  dream  over  the  lives  and  career  of 
those  who  slept  beneath 

"  The  storied  urn  and  animated  bust." 

There  are  over  fifty  splendid  monuments,  chiefly  to  English 
naval  and  military  heroes,  in  St.  Paul's,  many  of  them  most 
elaborate,  elegant,  and  costly  groups  of  marble  statuary ;  but 
I  left  those  for  the  last,  and  set  about  seeing  other  sights 
within  the  old  pile,  and  so  first  started  for  the  Whispering 
Gallery.  This  is  reached  by  a  flight  of  two  hundred  and 
sixty  steps  from  the  transept,  and  about  half  way  \vp  to  it  we 
were  shown  the  library  belonging  to  the  church,  containing 
many  rare  and  curious  works,  among  them  the  first  book  of 
Common  Prayer  ever  printed,  and  a  set  of  old  monastic  manu- 
scripts, said  to  have  been  preserved  from  the  archives  of  the 
old  St.  Paul's,  when  it  was  a  Roman  cathedral.     The  floor 


216  THE    WHISPERING    GALLEKY. 

of  this  library  is  pointed  out  as  a  curiosity,  being  composed  of 
a  mosaic  of  small  pieces  of  oak  wood.  Next  the  visitor  is 
shown  the  Geometrical  Stairs,  a  flight  of  ninety  steps,  so  in- 
geniously constructed  that  they  all  hang  together  without 
any  visible  means  of  support  except  the  bottom  step. 

Up  we  go,  upward  and  onward,  stopping  to  see  the  big  bell, 
—  eleven  thousand  four  hundred  and  seventy-four  pounds, — 
which  is  never  tolled  except  for  a  death  in  the  royal  family. 
The  hour  indicated  by  the  big  clock  is  struck  on  it  by  a  ham- 
mer moved  by  clock-work;  but  the  big  clapper  used  in  tolling 
weighs  one  hundred  and  eighty  pounds.  The  clock  of  St. 
Paul's  seems  a  gigantic  timepiece  indeed,  when  you  get  up 
to  it ;  its  faces  are  fifty-seven  feet  in  circumference,  and  the 
minute-hand  a  huge  bar  of  steel,  weighing  seventy-five 
pounds,  and  nearly  ten  feet  in  length ;  the  hour  or  little  hand 
is  another  bar  of  about  six  feet  long,  weighing  forty-four 
pounds.  The  figures  on  the  dial  are  two  feet  three  inches 
long,  and  the  big  pendulum,  that  sets  the  machinery  of  this 
great  time-keeper  in  motion,  is  sixteen  feet  long,  with  a  weight 
of  one  hundred  and  eight  pounds  at  the  end  of  it. 

The  Whispering  Gallery  is  a  gallery  with  a  light  orna- 
mental iron  railing,  running  entirely  round  the  inside  of  the 
base  of  the  cupola,  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and  forty  yards ; 
and  whispered  conversation  can  be  carried  on  with  persons 
seated  at  the  extreme  opposite  side  of  the  space ;  the  clap- 
ping of  the  hands  gives  out  almost  as  sharp  a  report  as  the  dis- 
charge of  a  rifle.  This  Whispering  Gallery  is  a  fine  place  to 
get  a  good  view  of  the  great  paintings  in  the  compartments 
of  the  dome,  which  represent  leading  events  in  the  life  of  St. 
Paul.  It  was  at  the  painting  of  these  pictures  that  the  oc- 
currence took  place,  so  familiar  as  a  story,  where  the  artist, 
gradually  retiring  a  few  steps  backward  to  mark  the  effect 
of  his  work,  and  having  unconsciously  reached  the  edge  of 
the  scaffolding,  would,  by  another  step,  have  been  precipitated 
to  the  pavement,  hundreds  of  feet  below,  when  a  friend,  see- 
ing his  peril,  with  great  presence  of  mind,  seized  a  brush  and 
daubed  some  fresh  paint  upon  the  picture ;  the  artist  rushed 


UP   INTO    THE   BALL.  217 

forward  to  prevent  the  act,  and  saved  his  life.  From  this 
gallery  we  looked  far  down  below  to  the  tessellated  pavement 
of  black  and  white,  the  centre  beneath  the  dome  forming  a 
complete  mariner's  compass,  showing  the  thirty-two  points. 

Above  this  are  two  more  galleries  around  the  dome,  —  the 
Stone  Gallery  and  Golden  Gallery,  —  from  which  a  fine  view 
of  London,  its  bridges  and  the  Thames,  can  be  had,  if  the  day 
be  clear.  Above  we  come  to  the  great  stone  lantern,  as  it  is 
called,  which  crowns  the  cathedral,  and  bears  up  its  huge 
ball  and  cross.  Through  the  floor,  in  the  centre  of  this  lan- 
tern, a  hole  about  the  size  of  a  large  dinner-plate  is  cut,  and 
as  I  stood  there  and  looked  straight  down  to  the  floor,  over 
three  hundred  feet  below,  I  will  confess  to  a  slight  feeling  of 
contraction  in  the  soles  of  the  feet,  and  after  a  glance  or  two 
at  the  people  below,  dwarfed  by  distance,  I  hastily  retired 
with  the  suspicion  of,  what  if  the  plank  flooring  about  that 
aperture  should  be  weak ! 

Next  comes  an  ascent  into  the  ball.  A  series  of  huge  iron 
bars  uphold  the  ball  and  cross  ;  the  spaces  between  them  are 
open  to  the  weather,  but  so  narrow,  that  the  climber,  who 
makes  his  way  by  aid  of  steps  notched  into  one  of  the  bars, 
as  he  braces  his  body  against  the  others,  could  not  possibly 
get  more  than  an  arm  out ;  so  the  ascent  of  ten  feet  or  so  is 
unattended  with  danger,  and  we  found  ourselves  standing 
within  this  great  globe,  which  from  the  streets  below  appears 
about  the  size  of  a  large  foot-ball,  but  which  is  of  sufficient 
capacity  to  contain  ten  men.  It  was  a  novel  experience  to 
stand  in  that  huge  metallic  sphere,  which  was  strengthened 
by  great  straps  of  iron  almost  as  big  as  railroad  rails,  and 
hear  the  wind,  which  was  blowing  freshly  at  the  time,  sound 
like  a  steamship's  paddle-Avheels  above  our  head.  Thirty  feet 
above  the  globe  rises  the  cross,  which  is  fifteen  feet  high,  and 
which  the  guide  affirmed  he  really  believed  American  visitors 
would  climb  and  sit  astride  of,  if  there  were  any  way  of  get- 
ting at  it. 

Having  taken  the  reader  to  the  highest  accessible  point, 
we  will  now  descend  to  the  lowest  —  the   huge   crypt,  in 


218  DOWN  INTO  THE  CRYPT. 

which  rest  the  last  mortal  remains  of  England's  greatest 
naval  and  greatest  military  heroes,  —  Nelson  and  Wellington, 
—  heroes  whose  pictures  you  see  from  one  end  of  the  island 
to  ihe  other,  in  every  conceivable  style  —  their  portraits,  naval 
md  battle  scenes  in  which  they  figured,  busts,  monuments, 
itatues,  engravings,  and  bronzes.  No  picture  gallery  seems 
complete  without  the  death  scene  of  Nelson  upon  his  ship  in 
the  hour  of  victory ;  and  one  sees  it  so  frequently,  that  he  al- 
most yields  to  the  belief  that  the  subject  is  as  favorite  a  one 
with  British  artists,  as  certain  scriptural  ones  used  to  be  with 
the  old  Italian  jointers. 

The  crypt  contains  the  immense  pillars,  forty  feet  square, 
which  support  the  floor  above,  and  in  that  part  of  it  directly 
beneath  the  dome  is  the  splendid  black  marble  sarcophagus 
of  Lord  Nelson,  surmounted  by  the  cushion  and  coronet. 
This  sarcophagus  was  originally  prepared  by  Cardinal  Wolsey 
for  his  own  interment  at  Windsor,  but  now  covers  the  remains 
of  the  naval  hero,  and  bears  upon  its  side  the  simple  inscrip- 
tion "  Horatio,  Viscount  Nelson."  In  another  portion  of 
the  crypt  is  the  large  porphyry  sarcophagus  of  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  the  enclosure  about  it  lighted  with  gas  from 
granite  candelabra,  while  all  about  in  other  parts  of  the  crypt, 
beneath  the  feet  of  the  visitor,  are  memorial  slabs,  that  tell 
him  that  the  ashes  of  some  of  England's  most  noted  painters 
and  architects  rest  below.  Here  lies  Sir  Christopher  Wren, 
who  built  St.  Paul's,  and  who  lived  to  the  good  old  age  of 
ninety-one.  Here  sleeps  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Sir  Thomas 
Lawrence,  and  Benjamin  West,  painters;  here  Robert  Mylne, 
who  built  Blackfriars'  Bridge,  and  John  Rennie,  who  built 
Southwark  and  Waterloo  Bridges,  besides  many  others  of 
more  or  less  note.  In  another  part  of  the  crypt  is  preserved 
the  great  funeral  car,  with  all  its  trappings  and  decorations, 
which  was  used  upon  the  occasion  of  the  funeral  ceremonies 
of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  which  the  guide  shows  Avith 
great  empires sement,  expecting  an  extra  sixpence  in  addition 
to  the  three  shillings  and  two  j>ence  you  have  already  ex- 
pended for  tickets  to  different  parts  of  the  building. 


MONUMENTAL   GROUPS.  219 

The  expenses  of  the  whole  sight  are  as  follows :  Whisper- 
ing and  other  two  galleries,  sixpence ;  to  the  hall,  one  shilling 
and  sixpence ;  library,  geometrical  staircase,  and  clock,  eight- 
pence  ;  crypts,  sixpence.  Total,  three  shillings  and  two-pence. 
And  now,  having  seen  all  else,  we  will  take  a  saunter  through 
the  body  of  the  church,  and  a  glance  at  the  monuments  erected 
to  the  memory  of  those  who  have  added  to  England's  glory 
upon  the  sea  and  the  field  of  battle. 

One  of  the  first  monumental  marble  groups  that  the  visitor 
observes  on  entering  is  that  of  Sir  William  Ponsonby,  whose 
horse  fell  under  him  in  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  leaving  him 
to  the  lances  of  the  French  cuirassiers.  It  represents  Pon- 
sonby as  a  half-clad  figure,  slipping  from  his  horse,  that  has 
fallen  to  its  knees,  and  holding  up  his  hand,  as  he  dies,  to 
receive  a  wreath  from  a  rather  stiff-looking  marble  angel,  that 
has  opportunely  descended  at  that  moment. 

The  statue  of  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  represented  with  a 
scroll  in  his  hand,  and  in  the  attitude  of  deep  thought, 
stands  upon  a  pedestal  bearing  a  long  Latin  inscription. 

The  monument  by  Flaxman  to  Lord  Nelson  is  quite  an 
elaborate  one.  It  represents  him  in  his  naval  full  dress,  and 
a  cloak  falling  from  his  shoulders,  standing  upon  a  pedestal, 
leaning  upon  an  anchor  and  coil  of  rope.  Upon  the  side  of 
the  pedestal  are  cut  allegorical  representations  of  the  North 
Sea,  the  German  Ocean,  the  Nile,  and  the  Mediterranean, 
and  the  words  Copenhagen  —  Nile — Trafalgar.  At  one 
side  of  the  pedestal  crouches  a  huge  marble  lion.  At  the 
other  stands  Britannia,  with  two  young  sailors,  pointing  out 
the  hero  to  them  for  their  imitation. 

The  statue  of  John  Howard,  the  philanthropist,  represents 
him  in  Roman  costume,  trampling  upon  some  fetters,  a  key 
in  his  right  hand,  and  a  scroll  in  his  left.  A  bass-relief  on 
the  pedestal  represents  the  benevolent  man  entering  a  prison, 
and  bringing  food  and  clothing  to  prisoners.  A  very  beauti- 
ful inscription  tells  of  his  many  virtues,  his  modesty  and 
worth ;  of  his  having  received  the  thanks  of  both  Houses  of 
British  and  Irish  Parliaments  for  his  services  rendered  to  his 


220  England's  warriors. 

country  and  mankind,  and  that  his  modesty  alone  defeated 
various  efforts  which  were  made  during  his  life  to  erect  this 
statue. 

There  is  a  fine  statue  of  Bishop  Heber,  who,  half  a  century 
ago  (May  15,  1819),  wrote  the  beautiful  missionary  hymn, 
"From  Greenland's  icy  mountains,"  which  has  since  then 
been  translated  into  foreign  tongues  at  every  missionary  sta- 
tion, and  sung  all  over  the  world.  The  statue,  executed  by 
Chantrey,  represents  the  bishop  kneeling,  with  his  hand  rest- 
ing upon  the  Holy  Bible. 

There  are  two  monuments  that  will  attract  the  attention 
of  Americans,  from  the  fact  of  their  being  in  memory  of  gen- 
erals who  gained  their  laurels  in  military  operations  in  this 
country.  The  first  is  that  of  General  Robert  Ross,  who,  in 
1814,  "executed  an  enterprise  against  Washington,  the  cap- 
ital of  the  United  States  of  America,  with  complete  success." 
Valor  is  represented  as  placing  an  American  flag  upon  the 
general's  tomb,  over  which  Britannia  is  weeping,  —  maybe  at 
the  vandalism  of  the  "  enterprise."  The  other  monument 
represents  Generals  Pakenham  and  Gibbs,  in  full  uniform, 
who,  as  the  inscription  informs  us,  "  fell  gloriously,  on  the  8th 
of  January,  1815,  while  leading  the  troops  to  an  attack  of 
the  enemy's  works  in  front  of  New  Orleans." 

Lord  Collingwood,  who  was  vice-admiral,  and  commanded 
the  larboard  division  at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  has  a  splen- 
did monument,  upon  which  a  man-of-war  is  represented 
bringing  home  his  remains,  attended  by  Fame  and  other  alle- 
gorical figures.  That  eminent  surgeon,  Sir  Astley  Cooper, 
who  died  in  1842,  has  a  fine  monument,  erected  by  his  con- 
temporaries and  pupils. 

A  splendid  marble  group,  representing  a  war-horse  bound- 
ing over  a  fallen  soldier,  while  his  rider  is  falling  from  the 
saddle  into  the  arms  of  a  Highlander,  is  erected  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Sir  Ralph  Abercromby,  who  fell  in  Egypt  in  1801.  A 
marble  figure  of  a  sphinx  reposes  each  side  of  the  monu- 
ment. The  statue  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  is  by  Flaxman, 
and  represents  him  clad  in  the  robes  of  a  doctor  of  law,  with 


GOG   AND   MAGOG.  221 

a  volume  in  one  hand,  and  the  other  resting  upon  a  medallion 
of  Michael  Angelo.  The  inscription,  in  Latin,  describes  him 
as  "  prince  of  the  painters  of  his  age." 

Numerous  other  groups  of  statuary  from  the  monuments 
of  naval  and  military  heroes  represent  them  surrounded  by 
allegorical  figures  of  History,  Fame,  Valor,  &c,  and  inscrip- 
tions set  forth  their  deeds  of  bravery,  and  their  services  to 
the  nation  for  whom  they  poured  out  their  blood  and  yielded 
up  their  lives. 

Monuments  to  those  whose  names  are  well  known  in  this 
country  will  also  attract  the  attention  of  American  visitors, 
such  as  that  to  Henry  Hallam,  the  historian  of  the  Middle 
Ages;  Turner,  the  celebrated  painter;  Napier,  the  historian 
of  the  peninular  Avar;  Sir  Henry  Lawrence,  who  died  defend- 
ing Lucknow,  in  1857 ;  and  Sir  John  Moore,  who  fell  at 
Corunna,  and  was  buried  at  midnight  on  the  ramparts,  as 
described  in  the  well-known  ode  commencing, — 

"  Not  a  drum  was  hoard,  not  a  funeral  note, 
As  his  corpse  to  the  rampart  we  hurried." 

Thus  it  is  in  the  sculptured  marble  you  may  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey,  St.  Paul's,  and  the  old  cathedrals  of  the  country, 
read  England's  history  again,  and  seem  to  approach  nearer, 
and  have  a  more  realizing  sense  of  her  great  men  and  their 
deeds,  than  from  the  pages  of  the  printed  volume. 

In  the  rush  of  sight-seeing  we  had  nigh  forgotten  Guildhall, 
the  home  of  Gog  and  Magog,  and  the  City  Hall  of  London. 
And,  in  truth,  it  is  really  not  much  of  a  sight  to  see,  in  com- 
parison with  the  many  others  that  claim  the  visitor's  atten- 
tion ;  but  we  drifted  down  to  the  end  of  King  Street  one  day, 
which  carried  us  straight  into  the  entrance  of  Guildhall,  at 
the  end  of  the  street.  The  great  entrance  hall  is  quite  im- 
posing, being  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  fifty 
wide,  and  fifty  high,  lighted  with  windows  of  painted  glass, 
while  at  one  end,  in  a  sort  of  raised  gallery,  stand  the  big 
wooden  figures  of  the  city  giants,  Gog  and  Magog.  Around 
this  great  hall  are  several  monuments  and  groups;  among 


222  THE    GUILD    HALLS. 

them,  those  to  the  Earl  of  Chatham,  "Wellington,  and  Nel- 
son, and  statues  of  Edward  VI.,  Queen  Elizabeth,  and 
Charles  I.  The  hall  is  used  for  elections,  city  meetings,  and 
banquets  —  those  noted  feasts  at  which  turtle  soup  is  sup- 
posed to  be  so  prominent  a  feature  in  the  bill  of  fare. 

There  are  in  London  quite  a  number  of  the  buildings  or 
halls  of  the  guilds  or  trade  associations  of  old  times  —  nearly 
fifty,  I  believe.  Many  of  the  trades  have  ceased  to  exist  — 
their  very  names  almost  obsolete.  For  instance,  the  associa- 
tion of  loriners,  united  girdlers,  and  the  bowyers.  The  mem- 
bers of  some  of  these  old  corporations  or  guilds  are  by  no 
means  all  artisans,  and  about  all  they  have  to  do  is  to  man- 
age the  charities  and  trust  funds  that  have  descended  to 
them.  They  meet  but  once  or  twice  a  year,  and  then  in  the 
old  hall,  furbished  up  for  the  occasion.  The  very  best  of 
good  eating  and  drinking  is  provided,  and  perhaps,  on  cer- 
tain anniversaries,  the  curious  records  and  annals  of  the  old 
society  are  produced,  and,  perchance,  some  old  anniversary 
ceremony  gone  through  with. 

Some  of  the  societies  have  rare  and  curious  relics,  which 
are  brought  out  on  these  occasions.  For  instance,  the  fish- 
mongers  have  the  dagger  with  which  Wat  Tyler  was  stabbed 
by  one  of  its  members ;  the  armorers  and  braziers  some  fine 
old  silver  work ;  and  the  barber  surgeons  a  fine,  large  picture, 
by  Holbein,  representing  Henry  VIII.  presenting  the  charter 
to  their  company.  In  Goldsmiths'  Hall  we  saw  a  splendid 
specimen  of  the  goldsmiths'  work,  in  the  shape  of  a  gold 
chandelier,  weififhinor  over  one  thousand  ounces.  This  hall 
was  rebuilt  in  1834,  although  the  goldsmiths  owned  the  site 
in  1323.  By  an  act  of  Parliament,  all  articles  of  gold  or  sil- 
ver must  be  assayed  or  stamped  by  this  company  before 
being  sold. 

In  Threadneedle  Street,  appropriately  .placed,  we  saw 
Merchant  Tailors'  Hall,  built  about  1667;  and  in  the  old 
hall  of  this  company  James  I.,  and  his  son  Prince  Henry, 
once  dined  with  the  company,  when  verses  composed  espe- 
cially for  the  occasion  by  Ben  Jonson  were  recited.     Here, 


THE    BANK   OF   ENGLAND.  223 

in  Threadneedle  Street,  is  the  Bank  of  England,  sometimes 
called  the  "  Old  Lady  of  Thrcednecdle  Street,"  which  is  also 
one  of  the  sights  of  the  metropolis,  and  covers  a  quadrangular 
space  of  nearly  four  acres.  Armed  with  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion from  one  of  the  directors,  or,  more  fortunate,  in  company 
with  one  of  them,  if  you  chance  to  enjoy  the  acquaintance  of 
any  of  those  worthies,  you  can  make  the  tour  of  this  wonder- 
ful establishment,  finishing  with  the  treasure  vault,  where 
you  have  the  tantalizing  privilege  of  holding  a  million  cr  two 
dollars'  worth  of  English  bank  notes  in  your  hand,  and  "  heft- 
ing" ingots  of  crold  and  bricks  of  silver. 

Then  there  are  twenty-four  directors  to  this  bank,  and  about 
a  thousand  persons  employed  in  it :  clerks  commence  at  the 
age  of  seventeen,  receiving  fifty  pounds  per  annum  for  their 
service,  and  the  salary  of  a  chief  of  department  is  twelve 
hundred  pounds.  Some  old,  gray-headed  men  that  we  saw, 
who  had  grown  round-shouldered  over  their  ledgers,  we  were 
informed  had  been  in  the  employ  of  the  bank  for  over  forty 
years.  The  operation  of  collecting  the  specie  for  a  bank  note, 
which  I  tested,  is  one  requiring  considerable  red  tape  and 
circumlocution.  You  go  from  clerk  to  clerk,  registering  your 
address  and  date  of  presentation  of  notes  and  their  number, 
till  finally  you  reach  the  individual  who  is  weighing  and 
shovelling  out  sovereigns,  who  passes  out  the  specie  for  the 
paper.  These  notes,  after  being  once  presented,  are  never  re- 
issued, but  kept  on  hand,  first  having  the  signatures  torn  off, 
for  seven  years,  and  then  burned.  We  visited  the  storehouse 
of  these  "relics  of  departed  worth,"  in  the  bank,  where 
millions  of  tatterdemalions  were  heaped  up,  awaiting  their 
fiery  doom. 

That  royal  gift  of  Cardinal  Wolsey  to  Henry  VIII  — 
Hampton  Court  Palace  —  is  not  only  noted  for  its  associa- 
tions of  bluff  King  Hal  and  the  ambitious  cardinal,  but  as 
beim:  the  residence  of  several  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the 
British  sovereigns.  The  estate  went  into  the  clutches  of 
Henry  in  1526.  It  is  about  twelve  miles  from  Hyde  Park,  in 
London,  and  the  palace  covers  about  eight  acres  of  ground. 


224  HAMPTON   COTJET   PALACE. 

It  was  here  that  Edward  VI.  was  bom,  and  his  mother, 
Jane  Seymour,  died  a  few  days  after ;  and  it  was  here  that 
Catharine  Howard  first  appeared  as  Henry  VIII.'s  queen, 
in  1540;  and  in  this  palace  the  licentious  brute  married  his 
sixth  wife,  Catherine  Parr ;  here  Edward  VI.  lived  a  portion 
of  his  short  reign,  Queen  Mary  spent  her  honeymoon,  and 
Queen  Elizabeth  visited.  Charles  II.  was  here  during  the 
plague  in  London ;  and  Oliver  Cromwell  saw  one  daughter 
married  and  another  die  beneath  its  roof;  Charles  II.  and 
James  II.,  William  III.  and  George  II.,  have  all  lived  and 
held  court  in  this  famous  old  place,  which  figures  so  frequently 
in  the  pages  of  English  history ;  and  so  short  a  distance  is  it 
from  London,  and  so  cheap  are  the  excursion  trains,  that,  on 
a  pleasant  day  a  mechanic,  his  wife,  and  child  may  go  out, 
visit  the  magnificent  old  palace,  all  its  rooms,  see  all  its 
paintings,  its  superb  acres  of  lawn,  forests,-. garden,  fountains, 
court-yards,  and  walks  for  two  shillings  (the  railroad  fare  to  go 
and  return  for  the  three).  All  at  Hampton  Court  is  open  free 
to  the  public ;  they  may  even  walk,  run,  and  roll  over  on  the 
grass,  if  they  like,  if  not  rude  or  misbehaved.  Many  spend  a 
whole  holiday  in  the  palace  and  its  delightful  grounds,  and  on 
the  pleasant  Sunday  afternoon  I  visited  them,  there  were,  at 
least,  ten  thousand  persons  present ;  yet,  so  vast  is  the  estate, 
that,  with  the  exception  of  the  passage  through  the  different 
rooms,  which  are  noted  as  picture  galleries,  there  was  no  feel- 
ins;  as  of  a  crowd  of  visitors. 

The  guides,  who  went  through  the  different  apartments, 
explaining  their  history,  and  pointing  out  the  celebrated  and 
beautiful  paintings,  asked  for  no  fee  or  reward,  although 
many  a  visitor  drops  a  few  pence  into  their  not  unwilling 
hands. 

Entering  the  palace,  we  went  by  way  of  the  King's  Grand 
Staircase,  as  it  is  called,  the  walls  and  ceilings  covered  with 
elegant  allegorical  frescoes,  and  representations  of  heathen 
deities  —  Pan,  Ceres,  Jupiter,  Juno  ;  Time  surrounded  by  the 
signs  of  the  zodiac,  and  Cupids  with  flowers ;  Fame  blowing 
her  trumpet,  and  Peace  bearing  the  palm  branch;  Bacchus 


ELEGANT   PAINTINGS.  225 

with  his  grapes,  and  Diana  seated  upon  the  half  moon ; 
Hercules  with  his  lion  skin  and  club,  and  Ganymede,  on  the 
eagle,  presenting  the  cup  to  Jove.  From  this  grand  entrance, 
v  itli  necks  aching  from  the  upward  gaze,  we  came  to  the 
Guard-room,  a  spacious  hall,  some  sixty  feet  in  length,  with 
muskets,  halberds,  spears,  and  daggers  disposed  upon  the 
Avails,  forming  various  fantastic  figures. 

From  thence  the  visitor  passes  into  the  first  of  the  series 
of  state  apartments,  which  is  entitled  the  King's  Presence 
Chamber,  and,  after  looking  up  at  the  old  chandelier,  made 
in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  suspended  from  the  ceiling,  the 
guide  begins  to  point  out  and  mention  a  few  of  the  leading 
pictures  in  each  room.  As  there  are  eighteen  or  twenty  of 
these  rooms,  and  over  a  thousand  pictures  suspended  upon 
the  walls,  to  say  nothing  of  the  florid  and  elaborate  decora- 
tions of  the  ceilings  by  Verio,  the  number  is  far  too  great  to 
be  inspected  satisfactorily  at  a  single  visit ;  and  upon  many 
scarce  more  than  a  passing  glance  can  be  bestowed  as  you 
pass  along  with  the  group  of  sight-seers.  I  jotted  in  my  note- 
book several  of  those  before  which  I  halted  longest,  such 
as  Charles  I.  by  Vandyke,  Ignatius  Loyola  by  Titian,  and 
the  portraits  of  beauties  of  Charles  II.'s  gay  court,  which 
are  one  of  the  great  attractions  of  the  collection.  These 
portraits  were  painted  by  Sir  Peter  Lely,  and  some  of  them 
very  beautifully  executed  :  here  are  the  Princess  Mary,  as  Di- 
ana ;  Anne  Hyde,  Duchess  of  York ;  the  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond, whom  Charles  wanted  to  marry,  and,  if  she  looked 
like  her  portrait,  we  applaud  his  taste  in  female  beauty ;  the 
sprightly,  laughing  face  of  Nell  Gwynne ;  Lady  Middleton, 
another  beauty,  but  a  frail  one ;  and  the  Countess  of  Ossory, 
a  virtuous  one  amid  the  vice  and  licentiousness  of  the  "  merry 
monarch's  "  reign. 

In  the  Queen's  Gallery,  which  is  about  one  hundred  and 
seventy-five  feet  in  length,  there  is  a  very  interesting  collec- 
tion ;  and  here  the  guide  had  some  indulgence,  and  allowed  us- 
to  tarry  a  little.  Great  tapestry  hangings,  with  scenes  from 
the  life  of  Alexander  the  Great,  beautifully  executed,  were 
15 


226  EACE    THROUGH  AET    GALLERIES. 

suspended  on  the  walls ;  here  hung  Raphael's  portrait,  painted 
by  himself;  here  Henry  VII.'s  Children,  by  Mabeuse ;  and 
here  old  Holbein  (to  whose  brush  we  owe  all  the  pictorial 
representations  we  have  of  Henry  VIII.)  especially  flourishes ; 
for  his  portraits  of  Henry  when  young,  of  Erasmus,  Will 
Somers,  the  king's  jester,  Francis  I.  of  France,  and  others 
that  I  do  not  remember,  hang  here ;  there  is  a  beautiful  St. 
Catherine,  by  Correggio;  a  Jewish  Rabbi,  by  Rembrandt; 
Boar's  Head,  by  Snyders  ;  Fruit,  by  Cuyp  ;  a  Boy  and  Fruit, 
by  Murillo ;  besides  scores  of  others  by  great  artists.  What 
a  collection  to  be  allowed  thirty-five  minutes  to  look  at !  It 
was  little  less  than  an  aggravation. 

Next  came  the  Queen's  Drawing-room,  which  contains 
many  pictures  from  the  pencil  of  Benjamin  West;  among 
them,  that  with  which  every  one  of  us,  who  has  studied  an 
American  geography  or  child's  book  of  history,  is  so  famil- 
iar—  the  death  of  General  Wolfe  at  the  storming  of  Quebec. 
From  out  the  windows  of  this  room  is  another  of  those 
superb  English  landscape  views  of  which  I  have  so  often 
spoken,  that  we  get  from  the  castles  and  palaces  of  the  coun- 
try. A  magnificent  avenue  of  lime  trees,  nearly  a  mile  in 
length,  stretches  out  to  view,  and  an  artificial  river,  or  canal, 
of  the  same  length,  shines  between  the  greensward  of  the 
park,  while  an  old  English  church  tower,  at  the  extreme  back- 
ground, fills  out  the  charming  picture  of  nature. 

In  the  Queen's  Audience  Chamber  we  have  old  Holbein's 
works  again.  The  curious  old  pictures  from  his  brush  here 
are,  Henry  VIII.  embarking  at  Dover ;  the  Battle  of  Spurs ; 
Meeting  of  Henry  VIII.  and  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  and 
Meeting  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Francis  I.  on  the  Field  of  the 
Cloth  of  Gold.  This  last  picture  has  a  story,  which  is  to  the 
effect  that  in  Cromwell's  time  the  Parliament  proposed  to 
sell  it  to  the  King  of  France.  The  Earl  of  Pembroke,  how- 
ever, determined  that  such  a  treasure  of  art  and  historical 
memento  should  not  leave  England,  and  thereupon  carefully 
and  secretly  cut  off  the  head  of  Henry  the  Eighth  from  the 
canvas,  so  that  the  French  king's  agent,  discovering  the  muti- 


PICTORIAL    SURFEIT.  227 

lation,  refused  to  take  the  painting.  When  Charles  the  Second 
came  to  the  throne,  after  the  Restoration,  Pembroke  returned 
the  head,  which  had  been  carefully  preserved,  and  it  was  very 
skilfully  replaced ;  so  skilfully,  that  it  was  only  by  getting  a 
view  by  a  side  light  that  we  could  discover  that  it  had  been 
disturbed. 

In  the  Private  Dining-room,  as  it  is  called,  are  shown 
three  of  the  great  couches  of  royalty,  the  state  beds  of  Wil- 
liam III.  and  his  Queen  Mary,  and  that  of  George  II.,  and  but 
few  pictures  of  note;  so  we  go  on  through  other  "halls," 
"  writing  closets,"  "  audience  chambers,"  &c,  till  we  reach  a 
fine,  lofty  gallery,  built  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren ;  here  we 
have  more  portraits  by  Holbein,  one  by  Abert  Durer,  one  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  in  her  vast  and  enormously  built  up  and 
gaudy  costume,  Landscape  by  Rubens,  Battle  Piece  by  Wou- 
vermans,  Inside  a  Farm  House  by  Teniers,  and  some  two  or 
three  hundred  others. 

After  this  pictorial  surfeit  we  passed  into  the  magnificent 
great  Gothic  Hall,  designed  by  Wolsey,  and  finished  by 
Henry  VIII.,  when  Anne  Boleyn  was  queen.  This  hall  is 
pure  Gothic,  one  hundred  and  six  feet  long,  forty  wide,  and 
sixty  high,  the  roof  very  elaborately  carved  oak,  decorated, 
with  great  taste  and  splendor,  with  arms  and  badges  of  King 
Henry.  It  is  somewhat  singular  that  at  this  very  place, 
which  was  the  scene  of  Wolsey's  magnificence  and  Henry's 
lordly  splendor,  there  should  have  been  acted,  by  King  George 
I.'s  command,  in  1718,  Shakespeare's  play  of  "Henry  VIII., 
or  the  Fall  of  Wolsey."  The  walls  of  this  hall  are  hung  with 
sjDlendid  arras  tapestry,  representing  the  history  of  Abraham ; 
around  the  hall  hung  portraits  of  Henry  VIII.,  Wolsey, 
Jane  Seymour,  and  Queen  Elizabeth;  and  at  intervals  are 
deers'  heads,  carved  from  wood,  above  which  are  banners  and 
trophies.  The  notable  feature  of  the  hall,  however,  is  its 
stained-class  windows,  thirteen  in  number,  besides  the  great 
one  and  the  beautiful  oriel  window,  splendid  in  its  pro- 
portions, fine  Gothic  canopy,  and  rich  in  beautiful  colored 
glass,  bearing  armorial  devices  of  the  King  and  Jane  Seymour. 


228  THE  GARDENS  AND  THE  PEOPLE. 

The  Great  Window  is  divided  off  into  fourteen  compartments, 
one  of  which  has  a  half-length  portrait  of  King  Henry,  and  the 
others  are  filled  with  armorial  crests  and  devices.  Six  of  the 
other  windows  bear  the  annorial  pedigrees  of  the  six  wives  of 
the  king,  and  the  others  various  heraldic  designs.  The  archi- 
tecture and  decorations  of  this  noble  hall  are  very  well  man- 
aged, and  the  subdued  and  colored  light,  falling  upon  the  rich 
carving  and  Gothic  tracery,  produces  an  imposing  and  strik- 
ingly beautiful  effect. 

After  an  inside  view  of  the  palace  and  its  picture-galleries, 
the  stroll  through  the  great  park  is  none  the  less  delightful. 
This  park,  or  rather  the  gardens,  as  they  are  called,  are  ele- 
gantly laid  out  with  beds  of  brilliant-colored  flowers,  broad 
gravel  walks,  beautiful  closely-clipped  lawns,  and  groups  of 
splendid  oaks  and  elms ;  and,  although  the  grounds  are  al- 
most a  dead  level,  with  but  little  inequality,  still  they  are  so 
beautifully  arranged  as  to  present  a  charming  and  romantic 
appearance.  Here  crowds  of  people  walked  beneath  the 
great  trees  in  the  broad  shaded  avenues,  sat  on  the  velvety 
turf  at  the  foot  of  great  oaks,  or  paused  and  admired  the  huge 
plats  of  flowers,  of  brilliant  hues  and  delicious  fragrance,  ar- 
ranged by  the  gardener's  skill  in  beautiful  combinations,  or 
strolled  into  the  conservatory  to  see  the  orange  trees,  or  into 
the  vinery  to  see  that  celebrated  grape  vine,  which  is  said  to 
be  the  largest  in  Europe ;  and  a  royal  monster  it  is,  indeed, 
stretching  out  its  arms  over  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet,  and 
having  a  stem  that,  at  three  feet  from  the  ground,  measures 
over  thirty  inches  in  circumference.  It  was  planted  in  17C8. 
Its  fruit  is  the  richest  black  Hamburg  variety,  and  from  two 
thousand  to  two  thousand  five  hundred  bunches  of  the  lus- 
cious spheroids  are  its  annual  yield.  Not  among  the  least  of 
the  attractions  of  the  gardens  is  a  maze,  skilfully  constructed 
of  hedges  about  seven  feet  in  height,  and  the  walks  to  the 
centre,  or  from  the  centre  to  the  outside,  so  skilfully  contrived 
ill  labyrinthine  passages  of  puzzling  intricacy  as  to  render  it  a 
matter  of  no  ordinary  difficulty  to  extricate  one's  self.  A 
guide,  however,  stands  upon  an  elevated  platform  outside,  and 


WINDSOR   CASTLE.  229 

assists  those  by  his  instructions  who  are  unable  to  do  so,  and 
give  up  the  trial.  The  shouts  of  laughter  of  those  who  were 
entangled  in  the  deceitful  avenues  told  of  their  enjoyment  of 
the  ingenious  puzzle. 

Near  the  maze  is  one  of  the  large  gates  of  the  palace  gar- 
dens, opening  exactly  opposite  to  Bushy  Park ;  and  here  we 
passed  out  into  a  great  avenue,  a  mile  in  length,  of  horse- 
chestnut  trees,  the  air  redolent  with  their  red  and  white  blos- 
soms. In  this  park  the  parties  who  come  from  London  to 
visit  Hampton  Court  picnic,  as  no  eatables  or  picknicking  is 
permitted  in  the  gardens  of  the  latter.  Hawkers  and  ped- 
lers  of  eatables  and  drinkables,  of  all  kinds  and  at  all  p rices, 
were  in  every  direction ;  groups  under  the  trees  were  chat- 
ting, lunching,  and  lounging,  and  enjoying  themselves. 

The  finest  residence  of  English  royalty,  at  the  present  time, 
is  Windsor  Castle ;  and  a  pleasant  railway  ride  of  twenty 
miles  or  so  from  London  brought  us  in  sight  of  the  splendid 
great  Round  Tower,  which  is  so  notable  a  feature  of  the  place. 
It  crowns  the  apex  of  a  hill,  and  is  a  conspicuous  landmark. 
Edward  III.  was  born  here ;  Cromwell  and  Charles  II.  have 
lived  here ;  and  a  statue  of  the  latter  is  conspicuous  in  the 
great  quadrangle  of  the  castle,  which  you  enter  after  mount- 
ing the  hill.  The  towers  around  the  walls  bear  such  names 
as  Edward  III.  Tower,  Lancaster  Tower,  Brunswick  Tower, 
Victoria  Tower,  &c. ;  but  the  noblest  of  all  is  the  great  Keej3, 
or  Round  Tower,  which  rises  to  the  height  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  feet  above  the  pavement  of  the  quadrangle ; 
and  up  to  the  summit  of  this  I  toiled,  to  be  repaid  by  the 
charming  English  landscape  view  spread  out  on  every  side. 
Twelve  counties  were  within  the  range  of  vision;  the  square 
turrets  of  old  English  churches,  arched-stone  bridges,  the 
beautiful  park  and  grounds  beneath,  with  cricketers  at  play, 
and  the  beautiful  sheet  of  water  ("Virginia  water"),  like  a 
looking-glass  beneath  the  sun,  and  the  Thames  winding  away 
in  the  distance  like  a  silver  ribbon  on  the  green  landscape, 
which  was  dotted  with  villages,  elegant  country  seats  and 
castle-like  dwellings  of  the  aristocracy,  formed  a  picture  that 
it  was  a  luxury  to  look  upon. 


230  THE    STATE   APARTMENTS. 

Visitors  are  conducted  through  the  state  apartments,  which 
contain  many  fine  pictures,  some  magnificent  tapestry,  and 
which,  of  course,  are  furnished  in  regal  style.  The  Gobelin 
tapestry,  and  a  magnificent  malachite  vase,  —  the  latter  a  gift 
to  the  queen  from  Nicholas,  Emperor  of  Russia,  —  were  in  the 
Presence  Chamber.  The  Waterloo  Chamber  contained  many 
fine  portraits  of  Waterloo  heroes  by  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence, 
and  the  Vandyke  Room  was  hung  only  with  pictures  painted 
by  that  artist. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  Edward  III.  instituted  the  Order 
of  the  Garter  at  Windsor,  in  1349,  and  in  St.  George's  Hall, 
or  the  State  Dining-room,  as  it  is  called,  is  where  the  queen 
confers  the  order.  At  the  upper  end  of  this  hall,  which  is  two 
hundred  feet  in  length,  is  the  throne  upon  its  raised  dais. 
Upon  one  side  of  the  apartment  are  hung  the  portraits  of 
England's  sovereigns,  while  upon  the  other  are  the  coats  of 
arms  of  the  original  Knights  of  the  Garter,  elegantly  em- 
blazoned with  their  names  and  titles,  and  those  of  their  suc- 
cessors. The  ceiling  is  also  elegantly  ornamented.  The  most 
attractive  apartment  is  the  long  gallery,  about  fifteen  feet  wide 
and  four  hundred  and  fifty  long,  which  is  rich  in  bronzes,  busts, 
and  pictures,  although  we  looked  with  some  interest  at  a 
shattered  section  of  the  mast  of  Lord  Nelson's  flag-ship,  the 
Victory,  which  bears  the  mark  of  the  enemy's  cannon-shot, 
and  is  surmounted  by  a  bust  of  Nelson,  in  a  room  called  the 
Guard  Chamber ;  and  in  the  same  room  is  a  shield,  inlaid  with 
gold  and  silver-work,  presented  by  Francis  I.  to  Henry  VIII. 
at  their  celebrated  meeting  on  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold. 

Next  after  the  state  apartments  St.  George's  Chapel  en- 
gaged our  attention.  This  chapel  was  begun  by  Edward  IV., 
in  1461,  and  not  completed  till  early  in  the  sixteenth  century. 
The  architectural  beauty  of  the  interior  is  indescribable. 
The  richly-ornamented  roof  and  the  great  east  window  are 
most  exquisitely  done,  and  it  is  a  wonder  that  tourists,  au- 
thors, and  the  guide-books  do  not  say  more  than  they  do 
about  it.  Knights  of  the  Garter  are  installed  here.  Their 
banners  and  escutcheons  hang  above  their  carved  oaken  stalls. 


WINDSOR   PARKS.  281 

A  wrought  steel  screen,  by  that  cunning  artificer  in  iron, 
Quintin  Matsys,  stands  above  the  last  resting-place  of  Edward 
IV.  Here,  below  the  marble  pavement,  rests  the  gigantic, 
frame  of  Henry  VIII. ;  here  slumber  Charles  I.  and  Henry 
VI.,  George  III.,  IV.,  and  William  IV.  The  monument  to 
the  Princess  Charlotte  is  a  magnificent  group,  representing 
her  upon  a  couch  as  if  just  expired,  and  a  sheet  thrown  over 
the  body,  while  her  maids  by  its  side,  with  mantles  thrown 
over  their  heads,  are  bowed  down  with  grief.  Above,  the 
spirit  is  represented  as  an  angel  soaring  towards  heaven  —  a 
figure  exquisitely  cut,  and  so  gracefully  poised  that  the  spec- 
tator half  expects  to  see  it  rise,  float  away  into  the  air,  and 
soar  out  of  sight.  The  effect  is  much  heightened  by  the  ad» 
mirable  manner  in  which  it  has  been  managed  to  have  the 
light  fall  upon  this  beautiful  sculpture. 

There  is  a  home  park  to  Windsor  Castle ;  and  how  large, 
think  you,  American  reader,  is  this  home  park  for  British  roy- 
alty? Why,  only  five  hundred  acres!  This  is  connected 
with  Windsor  Great  Park  by  the  Long  Walk,  a  splendid 
avenue  lined  with  elms,  which  avenue  is  continued  on  for 
three'  miles.  The  Great  Park  has  one  thousand  eight  hun- 
dred acres  within  its  area.  Here  was  Windsor  Forest, 
Heme's  Oak,  where  Heme  the  Hunter  was  said  to  dash  forth 
upon  his  steed,  and  where  old  Falstaff, — 

"  A  Windsor  stag,  and  the  fattest,  I  think,  i'  the  forest,"  — 

made  his  assignation  with  the  merry  wives  of  Windsor. 
Old  Windsor  itself  is  some  little  distance  away,  nestled  down 
on  the  banks  of  the  River  Thames ;  and  though  we  saw  some 
ancient  houses  and  an  inn  or  two,  there  were  none  that,  in  our 
brief  sojourn,  we  could  conjure  by  imagination  into  such  a 
one  as  fat  Jack  and  his  friends,  Bardolph  and  Pistol,  swilled 
sack  in,  nor  anything  that  looked  like  the  Garter  Inn,  or  Mis- 
tress Quickly.  One  inn  rejoices  in  the  name  of  Star  and 
Garter,  but  the  briskness  and  modern  style  of  it  savored  not 
of  Jack  FalstafFs  time. 

We  closed  our  visit  to  Windsor  with  an  inspection  of  the 


232  ROYAL    STABLES. 

royal  stables,  or  Queen's  Mews,  as  they  call  them  here. 
These  stables  were  very  well  arranged  and  kept,  and  contain 
nearly  a  hundred  horses  when  all  arc  in.  Many  were  away 
with  the  family,  who  were  absent  at  the  time  of  our  visit ; 
but  there  were  the  horses  for  park  drives,  the  horses  for  road 
drives,  &c,  while  there  were  also  a  dozen  or  more  very  hand- 
some barouches,  pony  and  basket  carriages,  and  seven  hand- 
some carriages  for  the  queen  and  suite  to  go  to  and  from  rail- 
way stations,  Clarences,  and  various  other  vehicles,  among 
them  a  largo  open-sided  affair,  with  a  white  tent-like  roof,  a 
present  from  Louis  Philippe.  Considering  that  this  is  only 
one  of  the  Queen's  Mews,  it  seemed  as  if  this  part  of  her 
"  establishment "  was  regal  indeed.  After  patting  the  fat  old 
white  pony,  which  her  majesty  always  uses  in  her  morning 
drives  in  the  park  when  at  Windsor,  we  presented  our  cice- 
rone with  an  English  shilling,  which,  notwithstanding  he  wore 
the  queen's  livery,  he  did  not  scorn  to  receive,  and,  taking  a 
glance  at  the  interior  of  the  Riding  School,  which  is  a  hand- 
somely-arranged room  about  two  hundred  feet  long,  where 
scions  of  royalty  may  be  taught  to 

"  Y/itch  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship," 

we  bade  adieu  to  Windsor. 

If  there  is  any  one  thing  aggravating  to  the  American 
tourist,  on  his  first  trip  to  England,  it  is  the  supreme  indif- 
ference of  the  English  press  to  American  affairs.  Accus- 
tomed to  the  liberal  enterprise  of  the  press  of  his  own  country, 
which,  with  a  prodigality  of  expenditure,  stoj)S  at  nothing 
when  news  is  to  be  had,  and  which  every  morning  actually 
gives  him  news  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  in  addition  to 
copious  extracts  from  foreign  and  domestic  papers,  he  is 
struck  with  astonishment  at  the  comparative  lack  of  enter- 
prise shown  by  the  London  papers. 

The  London  Times,  which  for  the  past  half  century  it  has 
been  the  custom  for  American  papers  to  gratuitously  advertise 
in  paragraphs  about  its  wonderful  system  and  enterprise,  can 
no  more  compare  with  the  New  York  Tribune  and  New 


LONDON    NEWSPAPERS.  233 

York  Herald  in  lateness  of  news,  amount  of  news  by  tele- 
graph, and  correspondence,  than  a  stage  coach  with  a  loco- 
motive. 

Marked  features  in  the  Times  are  the  finished  style  of  its 
editorials  and  correspondence,  and  its  parliamentary  reports, 
although  the  latter,  I  hardly  think,  are  much  better  made  up 
than  the  American  Congressional  reports  in  our  own  papers. 
But  where  the  inferiority  of  the  English,  and  the  superiority 
of  the  American  papers  is  most  conspicuous,  is  in  the  matter 
of  telegraphic  despatches,  the  American  papers  using  the 
telegraph  without  stint,  and  the  English  very  sparingly. 
The  New  York  Tribune  will  generally  give  its  readers,  every 
morning,  from  five  to  eight  times  as  much  by  home  lines  of 
wire  as  the  London  Times.  To  be  sure  we  have  a  much 
larger  extent  of  territory,  at  home,  that  the  wires  go  over ; 
but  then  the  American  papers  generally  give  more  telegraphic 
news  from  the  continent  of  Europe  even,  than  the  London 
papers. 

The  American,  on  his  first  visit  to  England,  calls  for  the 
Times  at  his  breakfast  table,  and  if  he  is  lucky  enough  to  get 
one,  turns  eagerly  to  the  telegraphic  column  to  see  what  may 
be  the  latest  news  from  America.  He  finds  a  despatch  of 
from  six  to  twelve  lines,  in  which  the  quotations  of  the  price 
of  United  States  stocks,  New  York  Central,  Erie,  Illinois  Cen- 
tral, and  some  other  railroad  shares,  are  given,  and,  perhaps, 
a  line  or  two  saying  that  Honorable  Thaddeus  Stevens,  mem- 
ber of  Congress,  died  this  morning,  or  the  president  has 
appointed  George  S.  Boutwell  secretary  of  the  treasury  de- 
partment. A  hundred  other  matters,  which  affect  British 
and  American  commerce,  are  not  reported;  intelligence  in- 
teresting to  Americans,  or  any  one  who  has  ever  been  to 
America,  is  not  alluded  to ;  extracts  from  American  papers 
seldom  given,  and,  when  given,  only  such  as  will  give  a  preju- 
diced impression.  Accounts  of  the  commercial,  agricultural, 
and  material  progress  of  the  country  seem  to  be  carefully 
and  jealously  excluded  from  their  columns,  and  after  a  month's 
reading  of  English  newspapers,  your  wonder  that  the  Eng- 


234  AMERICAN    VS.    BRITISH   ENTERPRISE. 

lish  people  are  so  ignorant  of  America  will  give  place  to  as- 
tonishment that  they  should  have  any  correct  impression  of 
it  whatever. 

Take,  for  example,  the  well-known  speech  of  Senator 
Sumner  upon  the  Alabama,  claims,  which,  day  after  day,  the 
papers  of  Loudon  thundered,  roared,  and  howled  over,  wrote 
against  and  commented  on,  and  not  one  of  them  printed  in 
its  columns  until  an  American  publishing  house,  in  London, 
in  answer  to  the  call  for  it,  issued  it  in  a  pamphlet.  Eveiy 
American  knows  that  had  a  speech  of  equal  importance,  re- 
lating to  this  country,  been  made  in  England,  it  would  have 
been  telegraphed  to  and  have  appeared  in  our  journals,  entire, 
within  twenty-four  hours  after  it  had  been  made.  Then, 
again,  the  enterprise  of  our  own  press  is  shown  in  its  giving 
extracts,  pro  and  con,  of  the  opinions  of  the  British  press,  so 
that  the  American  reader  feels  that  he  is  "  posted,"  and  may 
judge  for  himself;  whereas,  in  the  English  papers,  he  gets 
only  one  side  of  the  question,  and  a  meagre  allowance  at 
that. 

Murders,  railroad  accidents,  steamboat  explosions,  riots,  and 
suicides  are  the  favorite  extracts  from  the  American  press 
made  by  the  London  papers.  The  progress  of  great  rail- 
roads, increase  of  great  cities  in  size,  and  the  progress  of  this 
country  in  industry,  science,  art,  and  manufactures,  are  only 
occasionally  alluded  to. 

My  national  pride  being  touched  at  these  omissions,  I  in- 
quired the  reason  of  them  of  a  good-natured  Englishman  of 
my  acquaintance  one  day. 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  yah  see,  we  don't  care  much  about 
Americar  h'yar,  yah  know  —  yah  know  —  'cept  when  there's 
some  deuced  row,  yah  know,  and  then  the  Times  tells  us  all 
about  it,  yah  know." 

And  it  is  even  so ;  the  national  pride  is  so  intense,  that 
the  Englishman,  as  a  general  thing,  seems  to  care  very  little 
for  anything  that  is  not  English ;  his  estimate  of  anything  as 
good  or  bad  is  based  upon  its  approach  to  or  retreat  from  the 
British  standard  of  excellence ;  his  national  vanity  leads  him 


THE    TIMES.  235 

to  care  very  little  about  the  progress  or  decline  of  any  other 
country,  so  long  as  it  does  not  immediately  affect  his  own 
"  tight  little  island."  Many  have,  apparently,  pictured  in  their 
minds  a  map  of  the  world  like  that  of  the  Chinese  topogra- 
pher, which  gave  their  own  country  four  fifths  of  the  space, 
carefully  drawn,  leaving  the  remainder  a  blank,  as  occupied  by 
outside  barbarians. 

"  But  why,"  asked  I  of  my  good-natured  friend,  "  does  the 
Times  give  two  columns  of  bets  and  horse-race  matter,  and 
only  a  dozen  lines  about  the  great  Pacific  Railroad  ?  " 

"Yaas,  ah!  the  Darby,  yah  know,  —  British  national  sport 
—  every  Englishman  knows  about  the  Darby  —  couldn't  make 
up  a  book  without  the  Times,  yah  know.  The  Darby's  right 
h'yar,  and  yah  Pacific  railway's  three  thousand  miles  off,  yah 
know." 

It  is  to  be  acknowledged  there  was  a  certain  degree  of  force 
in  this  reasoning,  but  our  American  newspaper  readers,  who, 
from  appearances,  number  as  five  to  one  compared  with  Eng- 
lishmen, have  been  educated  up  to  such  a  point  of  news-get- 
ting, that  such  an  argument  would  fail  to  satisfy  them.  To 
hear  some  Englishmen  talk,  you  would  think  the  Times  had 
been  then-  swaddling-clothes  in  infancy,  was  their  book  of 
laws  in  manhood,  and  would  be  their  winding-sheet  at  death. 

And  yet  the  Times,  despite  its  great  influence,  is  far  ex- 
ceeded in  circulation  by  other  papers  in  London  —  the  Lon- 
don Telegraph,  for  instance,  which,  to  an  American,  will  seem 
in  its  general  characteristics  and  enterprise  the  most  like  an 
American  paper.  It  takes  more  pains  to  make  itself  a  sheet 
for  popular  reading.  Its  editorials  are  not  so  heavy,  either  in 
subject  or  matter,  as  the  Times,  but  more  off-hand  and  easier 
digested.  It  seems  to  be  the  paper  of  the  middling  classes. 
In  nearly  every  railroad  station  I  stopped  at  in  England  a 
handsomely-painted  sign-board,  sometimes  three  and  some- 
times six  feet  square,  informed  me  that  the  London  Telegraph 
had  the  largest  circulation  in  the  world ;  and  immediately  un- 
der it  we  were  informed,  upon  another  sign  of  the  same  size, 
but  another  color,  that  the  Evening  Standard  was  the  largest 


236  NEWSPAPER   READERS. 

paper  in  the  world.  Besides  these  announcements  on  signs, 
we  found  them  on  posters  of  the  same  size  all  over  London, 
wherever  bills  were  posted,  and  also  posted  in  other  English 
cities  —  a  style  of  advertising  rather  expensive,  but  hardly  so 
efficacious  as  the  columns  of  the  newspaper. 

One  is  struck  by  the  difference  between  the  American  and 
English  as  a  newspaper-reading  peoj:)le.  In  America,  news- 
papers are  seen  everywhere ;  boys  hawk  them  at  every  corner ; 
they  are  sold  at  news-stands  in  the  entrance  hall  of  every 
hotel ;  newsmen  pass  through  the  cars  with  armfuls,  at  inter- 
vals, on  every  railroad  line ;  half  a  dozen  are  taken  in  every 
hair-dresser's  shop  for  the  use  of  customers ;  and  the  great 
hotels  have  a  reading-room  with  files  from  all  the  leading 
cities,  so  that  a  daily  newspaper  may  be  had  in  America,  and 
is  at  hand  at  any  and  all  -times  when  the  reader  may  wish 
it ;  but  here  in  London  I  found  it  comparatively  a  matter  of 
difficulty  always  to  obtain  a  daily  paper.  The  hotel  where  I 
lodged,  which  had  some  thirty  or  forty  guests,  "  took  in  "  one 
London  Daily  Times,  a  Manchester  paper,  and  one  other 
weekly.  Of  course  the  first  person  who  got  the  Times  never 
resigned  it  until  he  had  read  it  through,  and  exhausted  the 
patience  of  anybody  else  who  undertook  to  wait  for  it.  There 
was  no  news-stand  near,  nor  in  the  hotel  —  "  the  porter  could 
border  me  a  Times  of  the  newsman,  reg'lar,  when  he  came 
round,  if  I  wished  it,  as  would  be  ready  at  breakfast." 

Some  of  my  English  friends  smiled,  almost  incredulously, 
at  my  assertion  that  our  American  business  men  very  gen- 
erally subscribed  for  from  three  to  five  daily  papers,  besides 
weeklies,  and  wondered  "why  they  wanted  to  read  the  news 
over  so  many  times,"  and  were  also  astonished  to  know  that 
American  coachmen  read  newspapers  while  waiting  for  a 
fare,  a  porter  while  waiting  for  a  job,  or  a  handcart-man  at 
his  cart-stand,  that  they  were  always  a  prime  necessity  to 
passengers  in  cars  and  omnibuses,  and  were  studied,  conned, 
and  perused  at  almost  every  interval  of  business,  and  oc- 
cupied no  small  portion  of  the  leisure  hours  of  all  classes  of 
American  citizens.     The  railroad  stations  in  London  are  pro- 


THE    BRITISH    MUSEUM.  237 

vided  with  good  news-stands,  where  the  traveller  may  always 
obtain  the  daily  and  weekly  papers,  and  also  a  good  supply 
of  excellent  light  literature.  My  foreign  experience,  thus  far, 
however,  has  strengthened  my  conviction  that  America  is 
the  land  of  newspapers. 

Trying  to  give  the  British  Museum  a  thorough  examina- 
tion is  somewhat  of  a  formidable  undertaking;  for  it  requires 
several  visits  to  get  even  a  superficial  view  of  its  valuable 
contents.  The  space  of  seven  acres  of  ground  is  occupied 
by  the  buildings,  which  cost  over  a  million  pounds  sterling, 
while  the  curiosities,  relics,  antiquities,  and  library  cannot  be 
estimated  in  a  money  value.  As  an  indication,  however,  of 
the  value,  I  may  enumerate  some  of  its  purchases  of  collec- 
tions, &c. :  the  Charles  Townley  collection  of  Roman  sculp- 
ture, purchased  by  government  in  1805  for  twenty  thousand 
pounds,  including  Discobolus,  noble  busts  of  Homer,  Pericles, 
Sophocles,  &c. ;  the  Elgin  Marbles,  purchased  of  Lord  Elgin 
for  thirty-five  thousand  pounds;  the  Phygalian  Marbles, 
which  cost  nineteen  thousand  pounds ;  Portland  Vase,  eigh- 
teen hundred  guineas ;  prints,  in  the  collection  of  prints  and 
engravings,  costing  from  two  hundred  to  five  hundred  guineas 
each.  The  enormous  library  has  swallowed  up  vast  private 
collections,  besides  the  valuable  ones  that  have  been  given  to 
it,  among  them  that  of  Sir  Thomas  Grenville,  which  cost 
fifty-four  thousand  pounds ;  George  III.'s  library,  which  was 
given  to  the  government,  and  cost  one  hundred  and  thirty 
thousand  pounds  —  an  exceedingly  rich  and  rare  collection ; 
the  valuable  collection  of  manuscripts  —  the  Cottonian  Har- 
leian,  cost  ten  thousand  pounds ;  Lansdowne,  five  thousand 
pounds ;  Burney,  thirteen  thousand  pounds,  &c.  These  are 
only  a  few  of  the  prices  of  leading  collections  that  I  find  set 
down  in  the  different  hand-books  of  the  museum ;  but,  as  is 
well  known,  there  are  other  articles  of  antiquity,  historical 
relics,  bibliographical  curiosities,  &c,  for  which  perfectly  fab- 
ulous prices  have  been  paid,  especially  for  any  well-authenti- 
cated relics  or  manuscripts  relating  to  the  early  history  of 
the  country.     Sometimes  articles  of  this  description  find  their 


238  BIBLIOGRAPHICAL    CURIOSITIES. 

way  into  a  public  auction  sale,  and  there  is  a  struggle  be- 
tween some  wealthy  virtuoso  and  the  museum  agent  for  its 
possession.  But  he  must  be  a  bold  buyer,  with  a  deep  purse, 
to  contend  successfully  against  the  British  Museum,  when  it 
is  decided  that  any  article  offered  for  sale  ought  to  be  added 
to  its  collection.  The  museum  is  divided  into  eleven  different 
departments,  viz. :  printed  books  and  manuscripts,  Oriental 
antiquities,  Greek  and  Roman  antiquities,  British  mediaeval 
antiquities,  coins  and  medals,  botany,  prints  and  drawings, 
zoology,  palaeontology,  and  mineralogy. 

The  library  is  that  portion  of  the  museum  most  read  about 
by  strangers,  and  the  least  seen  by  visitors,  as  they  are  only 
admitted  into  a  very  few  of  the  rooms  in  which  this  enor- 
mous collection  is  contained.  There  are  now  seven  hundred 
thousand  volumes,  and  the  number  increases  at  the  rate  of 
about  twenty  thousand  a  year ;  and  among  some  of  the  curi- 
osities and  literary  treasures  in  this  department,  I  will  men- 
tion a  few,  which  will  give  a  faint  indication  of  its  incalculable 
value.  There  are  seventeen  hundred  different  editions  of  the 
Bible,  some  very  rare  and  curious ;  an  Arabic  edition  of  the 
Koran,  written  in  gold,  eight  hundred  and  sixty  years  ago ; 
a  collection  of  block  books,  printed  from  carved  blocks  of 
wood  on  one  side  of  the  leaf  only,  which  was  a  style  of  book- 
making  immediately  preceding  the  art  of  printing. 

We  were  shown  specimens  of  the  earliest  productions  of 
the  printing  press,  some  of  which,  for  clearness  and  beauty 
of  execution,  are  most  remarkable.  The  Mazarine  Bible, 
1455,  is  very  fine.  Then  we  saw  a  copy  of  Cicero,  printed 
by  Fust  and  Schocffer,  in  1465.  The  first  edition  of  the  first 
Latin  classic  printed,  and  one  of  the  two  books  in  which 
Greek  type  was  used ;  —  the  press  work  of  this  was  excellent 
A  Psalter,  in  Latin,  in  1457,  by  Fust  and  Schoeffer,  on  vellum, 
and  the  first  book  printed  in  colors,  the  typography  clear,  and 
beautifully  executed.  The  first  edition  of  Reynard  the  Fox, 
printed  1479.  A  splendid  copy  of  Livy,  printed  on  vellum, 
in  1469,  for  Pope  Alexander  VI.,  and  the  only  copy  on  vellum 
known  to  exist;  —  this  volume  cost  nine  hundred  pounds  in 


TYPOGRAPHICAL   WONDERS.  230 

1815.  The  first  edition  of  the  first  book  printed  in  Greek 
characters,  being  a  Greek  Grammar,  printed  in  Milan,  in  1475. 
The  first  book  in  which  catch-words  were  used.  The  first 
book  in  which  the  attempt  was  made  to  produce  cheap  books 
by  compressing  the  matter,  and  reducing  the  size  of  the  page, 
was  a  little  copy  of  Virgil,  issued  in  Venice  in  1501 ;  and  the 
present  price  would  be  far  from  cheap.  The  first  book 
printed  in  France,  the  first  in  Vienna,  &c.  "  The  Game  and 
Playe  of  Chess,"  printed  by  Caxton,  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
in  1474,  and  which  was  the  first  edition  of  the  first  book 
printed  in  England.  Then  there  was  the  first  edition  of  old 
Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales,  printed  in  1476,  by  Caxton. 
Canntyrburye  was  the  way  they  spelled  it  in  his  time. 
iEsop's  Fables,  with  curious  old  wood-cuts,  printed  by  Cax- 
ton, in  1484.  The  first  printed  document  relative  to  Amer- 
ica, Columbus's  letter,  written  eight  months  after  his  dis- 
covery, and  printed  in  Rome  in  1493.  The  first  edition  of 
Paradise  Lost,  and  of  Robinson  Crusoe.  And  our  eyes 
were  made  to  ache  by  trying  to  read  a  "  microscopic"  edition 
of  Horace,  printed  in  the  smallest  type  ever  produced,  and 
undecipherable  except  with  a  magnifying  glass. 

Besides  these,  and  hundreds  of  other  old  books,  enough  to 
drive  a  bibliomaniac  out  of  his  remaining  senses,  were  speci- 
'  mens  of  fine  and  sumptuous  printing,  some  of  which,  in  the 
fifteenth  century,  on  vellum,  were  a  little  short  of  marvel- 
lous in  execution,  and  unsurpassed  by  anything  I  ever  saw  in 
modern  printing.  An  allegorical  poem,  in  German,  printed 
on  the  occasion  of  the  marriage  of  Maximilian  I.,  at  Nurem- 
berg, in  1517,  was  a  perfect  wonder  of  typographic  art  and 
beauty,  and  challenges  the  attention  of  every  one,  more  espe- 
cially those  versed  in  typography,  as  a  marvel  of  the  art.  I 
have  not  space  for  enumeration  of  any  of  the  wondrous 
specimens  of  beautiful  illuminated  works,  printed  on  vellum 
and  parchment,  in  colors  undimmed  by  hundreds  of  years, 
and  which  the  printer  of  to-day  labors  in  vain  to  surpass. 
The  purple  and  gold,  the  rich  crimson  and  emerald  green, 
that  absolutely  flash  out  on  the  pages  of  those  exquisite  vol- 


240  THE  GREAT  BEADING  EOOM. 

umes  known  as  Books  of  Hours,  printed  in  1488,  1493,  and 
thereabouts,  are  the  most  prodigal  luxury  of  the  art  I  ever 
laid  my  eyes  upon ;  and  the  patience,  labor,  time,  and  care 
required  to  bring  out  lines,  spaces,  and  letters  to  such  perfec- 
tion must  have  been  very  great,  to  say  nothing  of  the  quality 
of  ink  that  has  held  its  brilliancy  for  more  than  three  cen- 
turies and  a  half. 

Next  we  have  books  tracing  the  rise  and  progress  of  illus- 
tration, and  then  a  collection  of  books  with  autographs.  In 
these  last  are  some  autographs  worth  having,  as,  for  instance, 
the  autograph  of  Martin  Luther,  in  the  first  volume  of  a  copy 
of  the  German  Bible,  which  Bible  was  afterwards  in  the  pos- 
session of  Melanchthon,  who  wrote  a  long  note  on  the  fly-leaf 
of  the  second  volume,  signing  it  with  his  autograph ;  an  au- 
tograph of  Charles  I.  in  a  volume  of  almanacs  for  the  year 
1624;  an  autograph  of  Milton  on  a  copy  of  Aratus's  Phaenom- 
ena  ;  that  of  Lord  Bacon  on  a  copy  of  Fulgentius ;  autograph 
of  Katherine  Parr,  last  wife  of  Henry  VIII.,  in  a  French 
volume ;  and  that  of  Ben  Jonson  in  a  presentation  copy  of 
his  Volpone. 

The  library  has  an  extensive  collection  of  ncAVspapers,  the 
oldest  being  a  Venetian  Gazette,  bearing  the  date  of  1570. 

The  great  reading-room  of  the  library,  where  free  admis- 
sion to  read  is  granted  to  any  person  over  eighteen  years  of 
age  who  can  procure  a  recommendation  from  a  person  of 
respectability,  is  a  magnificent  apartment.  It  is  a  great  cir- 
cular space,  containing  forty-eight  thousand  superficial  feet, 
covered  by  a  dome  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  in  diameter, 
and  one  hundred  and  six  feet  high.  This  room  is  open  from 
nine  A.  M.  to  five  or  six  P.  M.,  and  is  always  well  lighted 
and  warmed,  and  contains  thirty-seven  reading  tables,  with 
two  or  three  exclusively  for  ladies.  The  floor  is  covered  with 
a  material  which  deadens  the  sound  of  footsteps,  and  no  loud 
talking  is  permitted;  so  that  every  opportunity  is  afforded 
for  quiet  study.  Quite  a  number  were  busily  engaged,  some 
with  a  large  heap  of  volumes  about  them,  evidently  looking 
up  authorities;  others  slowly  and  patiently  transcribing  or 


TIIE    EGYPTIAN    GALLERIES.  241 

translating  from  some  ancient  black-letter  volume  before  them; 
and  still  others  quietly  and  comfortably  enjoying  the  last  new 
novel.  There  is  space  afforded  for  three  hundred  readers,  and 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  on  shelves,  are  catalogues  of  the 
books  and  manuscripts  contained  in  the  library.  Close  at 
hand,  running  round  the  apartment,  are  shelves  containing 
books  of  reference,  or  "  lifts  of  the  lazy,"  such  as  dictionaries, 
encyclopaedias,  &c,  which  readers  are  allowed  to  take  from  the 
shelves  themselves.  These  form  of  themselves  a  library  of 
twenty  thousand  volumes.  For  other  books  the  reader  tills 
out  a  card,  and  hands  it  to  one  of  the  attendants,  who  sends 
for  it  by  others,  who  fetch  it  from  its  near  or  distant  shelf. 

The  catalogue  of  the  library  is  not  finished,  and  there  is  a 
saying  that  the  man  is  not  living  who  will  see  it  finished,  the 
regular  additions  and  occasional  bequests  serving  to  keep  it 
in  a  perpetually  unfinished  condition.  The  most  noted  of  the 
bequests  are  those  presented  by  Right  Hon.  Thomas  Gren- 
ville  and  George  III.  The  former  donor,  whose  gift  was 
twenty  thousand  two  hundred  and  forty  volumes,  worth  over 
fifty  thousand  pounds,  bequeathed  his  library  to  the  nation  as 
an  act  of  justice,  saying  in  his  will  that  the  greater  part  of  it 
had  been  purchased  from  the  profits  of  a  sinecure  office,  and 
he  acknowledged  the  obligation  to  the  public  by  giving  it  to 
the  museum  for  public  use.  The  library  of  George  III.  con- 
tained eighty  thousand  volumes,  and  is  kept  in  a  gallery  built 
expressly  to  hold  it. 

The  Egyptian  Galleries  contain  an  endless  collection  of 
antiquities  from  that  ancient  land.  From  Memphis  there  are 
old  monuments,  fragments  of  statues,  slabs  with  innumerable 
hieroglyphics,  while  old  Thebes,  the  capital  of  ancient  Egypt, 
seems  to  have  been  ransacked  to  have  furnished  slabs,  stones, 
carvings,  fragments  of  monuments,  hieroglyphical  inscriptions, 
and  sarcophagi.  In  these  galleries  we  saw  the  granite  statue 
of  Rameses  II.,  the  colossal  granite  head  and  shoulders  from 
the  Memnonium  at  Thebes ;  the  head  of  a  colossal  ram  from  an 
avenue  of  them  which  leads  up  to  the  gateway  of  one  of  the 
great  palaces  atKarnak:  here  were  two  granite  lions  from 
16 


242  A   WEALTH    OF   ANTIQUITIES. 

Nubia ;  a  colossal  head  brought  from  Karnak  by  Belzoni ;  and 
heaps  of  carved  plunder  stolen  from  old  Egypt  by  British 
travellers  and  the  British  government;  mummies,  articles 
taken  from  mummy  pits,  ornaments,  vases,  Egyptian  papyri, 
monuments  cut  by  chisels  two  thousand  years  before  Christ ; 
implements  the  very  use  of  which  can  now  only  be  surmised; 
carvings  of  scenes  in  domestic  life  that  are  guessed  at,  and  of 
battles,  feasts,  sieges,  and  triumphs,  of  which  no  other  record 
exists  —  a  wonder  to  the  curious,  and  a  not  yet  solved  problem 
to  the  scholar. 

The  Assyrian  Galleries,  with  their  wealth  of  antiquities 
from  ancient  Nineveh,  brought  principally  by  Mr.  Layard,  are 
very  interesting.  Here  we  may  study  the  bass-relief  from 
Sennacherib's  palace,  and  the  hieroglyphics  on  a  monument  to 
Sardanapahis,  and  bass-reliefs  of  the  battles  and  sieges  of  his 
reign ;  the  best  specimens  of  Assyrian  sculpture,  glass,  ivory, 
and  bronze  ornaments,  mosaics,  seals,  obelisks,  and  statues, 
the  dates  of  which  are  from  seven  to  eight  hundred  years  be- 
fore the  Christian  era.  Think  of  being  shown  a  fragment  of 
an  inscription  relating  to  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  another  of 
Darius  I.,  a  bass-relief  of  Sardanapahis  the  Great,  the  Avriting 
implements  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  the  harps,  flutes,  and 
cymbals,  and  the  very  dolls  with  which  their  children  played 
three  thousand  years  ago ! 

The  lover  of  Roman  and  Grecian  antiquities  may  enjoy 
himself  to  his  heart's  content  in  the  Roman  and  Grecian  Gal- 
leries, where  ancient  sculptures  by  artists  whose  names  have 
perished,  though  their  works  still  challenge  admiration,  will 
attract  the  attention.  In  these  galleries  the  gods  and  god- 
desses of  mythology  are  liberally  represented  —  the  Townley 
Venus,  Discobolus  (quoit-thrower),  elegant  bust  of  Apollo, 
heads  and  busts  of  noble  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  the  cele- 
brated marble  bust,  Clytie;  that  exquisitely-cut  head  rising 
above  the  bust,  which  springs  from  a  half-unfolded  flower. 

The  Elgin  Marbles  are  in  two  rooms,  known  as  the  Elgin 
Rooms.  These  marble  sculptures  were  obtained  by  the  Earl 
of  Elgin,  in  1802,  while  he  was  the  British  ambassador  at 


ROMAN   REMAINS.  243 

Constantinople,  the  sultan  granting  him  a  firman  to  remove 
from  Athens  whatever  monuments  he  might  wish.  He  ac- 
cordingly stripped  from  the  Parthenon  huge  slahs  of  bass- 
reliefs,  marble  figures,  and  ornamental  portions  of  that  noble 
building. 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  this  desecration  of  the  Athenian 
temple,  it  is  altogether  probable  that  these  world-renowned 
sculptures  and  most  splendid  specimens  of  Grecian  art  are 
better  preserved  here,  and  of  more  service  to  the  world,  than 
they  would  have  been  if  suffered  to  remain  in  the  ruin  of  the 
temple.  The  beauty  of  these  sculptures,  notwithstanding  the 
dilapidated  and  shattered  condition  of  some  of  them,  shows 
in  what  perfection  the  art  flourished  when  they  were  executed, 
and  the  figures  are  models  yet  unsurpassed  among  artists  of 
our  own  time. 

Besides  these  galleries,  there  is  also  a  gallery  of  Anglo- 
Roman  antiquities,  found  in  Britain,  another  of  British  anti- 
quities anterior  to  the  Romans,  embracing  such  remains  as 
have  been  found  of  the  period  previous  to  the  Roman  con- 
quest, known  as  the  stone  and  bronze  period  among  the  anti- 
quaries ;  also  a  collection  of  Anglo-Saxon  antiquities,  including 
Saxon  swords,  spear-heads,  bronze  ornaments,  coins,  &c. ;  then 
comes  a  mediaeval  collection,  a  vast  array  of  enamelled  work, 
vases,  jewelry,  armor,  mosaic  work,  seals,  earthen  ware,  and 
weapons  of  the  middle  ages ;  two  great  Yase  Rooms,  filled 
with  Grecian,  Italian,  Roman,  and  other  antique  vases,  found 
principally  in  tombs  and  ancient  monuments,  from  the  rudest 
to  the  most  graceful  of  forms  ;  the  Bronze  Room,  where  we 
revelled  amid  ancient  Greek,  Roman,  and  Etruscan  bronzes, 
and  found  that  the  Bacchus,  Mercury,  and  Jupiter,  and  the 
lions,  dolphins,  satyrs,  and  vases  of  antiquity,  are  still  the  most 
beautiful  and  graceful  works  of  art  extant,  and  that  a  large 
portion  of  those  of  our  own  time  are  but  reproductions  of 
these  great  originals  of  a  former  age. 

If  the  visitor  have  a  zoological  taste,  the  four  great  galleries 
of  zoological  specimens  —  beasts,  birds,  reptiles,  and  fishes  — 
will  engage  his  attention,  in  which  all  sorts  and  every  kind  of 


244  ORIGINAL   MAGNA   CHAKTA. 

stuffed  specimens  are  displayed;  and  in  another  gallery  a 
splendid  collection  of  fossils  may  be  inspected,  where  are  the 
remains  of  the  gigantic  iguanodon  and  megalosaurus,  skeleton 
portions  of  an  enormous  bird,  ten  feet  high,  from  New  Zea- 
land, —  the  unpronounceable  Latin  name  of  which  I  forgot  to 
note  down, — a  splendid  entire  skeleton  of  the  great  Irish  deer, 
fossil  fish,  imprints  of  bird  tracks  found  in  rocks,  of  skele- 
tons of  antediluvian  animals,  plants,  and  shells,  and  huge 
skeletons  of  the  megatherium  and  mastodon,  skeletons  and 
fragments  of  gigantic  reindeer,  elk,  oxen,  ibex,  turtles,  and  huge 
lizards  and  crocodiles  now  extinct.  There  are  also  halls  and 
departments  for  botany  and  mineralogy,  coin  and  medal  room, 
which,  besides  its  splendid  numismatical  collection,  contains 
the  celebrated  Portland  Vase,  and  some  curious  historical 
relics. 

Apropos  of  historical  relics ;  in  a  room  not  far  from  the  en- 
trance hall  there  are  some  most  interesting  historical  and  lit- 
erary curiosities,  over  and  about  which  I  loitsred  with  un- 
abated interest,  for  here  I  looked  upon  the  original  deed  of  a 
house  in  Blackfriars,  dated  March  11,  1612,  and  signed  Wil- 
liam Shakespeare.  Here  we  saw  the  original  Magna  Charta, 
the  very  piece  of  parchment  that  had  been  thumbed  by  the 
rebellious  barons,  and  to  which  King  John  affixed  his  unwill- 
ing signature  at  Runnymede,  June  15,  1215.  This  piece  of 
discolored  parchment,  with  the  quaint,  regular,  clerkly  old 
English  handwriting,  and  the  fragment  of  the  tyrant's  great 
seal  hanging  to  it,  is  the  instrument  that  we  have  read  so 
much  of,  as  the  chief  foundation  of  the  constitutional  liberties 
of  the  peojrie  of  England,  first  executed  over  six  centuries 
and  a  half  ago,  and  confirmed  since  then  by  no  less  than  thirty- 
eight  solemn  ratifications.  It  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting English  documents  in  existence,  and  we  looked  upon 
it  with  feelings  something  akin  to  veneration. 

Displayed  in  glass  cases,  Ave  read  the  original  draft  of  the 
will  of  Maiy,  Queen  of  Scots,  in  her  own  handwriting,  the 
original  manuscript  of  Kenilworth  in  Walter  Scott's  hand- 
writing, the  original  manuscript  of  Pope's  translation  of  the 


PRICELESS   MANUSCRIPTS.  245 

Iliad,  u  tragedy  in  the  handwriting  of  Tasso,  the  original 
manuscript  of  Macaulay's  England,  Sterne's  Sentimental 
Journey  in  the  author's  handwriting,  Nelson's  own  pen 
sketch  of  the  battle  of  the  Nile,  Milton's  original  agreement 
for  the  sale  of  Paradise  Lost,  which  was  completed  April  27, 
1667,  the  author  being  then  fifty-eight  years  of  age.  The 
terms  of  the  sale,  which  was  made  to  Samuel  Symons,  a 
bookseller,  was  five  pounds  down,  with  a  promise  of  five 
pounds  more  when  thirteen  hundred  copies  of  the  first  edition 
should  have  been  sold,  another  five  pounds  more  when  thir- 
teen hundred  copies  of  the  second  edition  should  be  sold,  and 
.so  on  for  successive  editions.  It  was  not,  however,  till  1674, 
the  year  of  his  death,  that  the  second  edition  was  published; 
and  in  December,  1680,  Milton's  widow  sold  all  her  interest  in 
the  work  for  eight  pounds,  paid  by  Symons. 

We  saw  here  the  little  prayer  book  used  by  Lady  Jane 
Grey  on  the  scaffold,  with  her  name,  Jane  Dudley,  in  her  own 
handwriting  on  the  fly-leaf;  autographic  letters  from  British 
sovereigns,  including  those  of  Richard  III.,  Henry  IV.,  Prince 
Hal,  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  Henry  VIII.,  and  Queen 
Elizabeth,  Bloody  Mary,  Charles  II.,  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots, 
and  Oliver  Cromwell.  Nor  were  these  all.  Here  were  Ho- 
garth's receipted  bills  for  some  of  his  pictures,  the  original 
Bull  of  Pope  Leo  X.,  conferring  on  Henry  VIII.  the  title  of 
Defender  of  the  Faith  (and  a  precious  bull  he  made  of  it), 
autographic  letters  of  Peter  the  Great,  Martin  Luther,  Eras- 
mus, Calvin,  Sir  Thomas  More,  Cardinal  Wolsey,  Archbishop 
Cranmer,  John  Knox,  Robert,  Earl  of  Essex,  Dudley,  Earl  of 
Leicester,  Francis  Bacon,  Sir  Isaac  Newton;  then  a  batch  of 
literary  names,  letters  from  Addison,  Dryden,  Spenser,  Mo- 
Here,  Corneille ;  papers  signed  by  George  Washington,  Ben- 
jamin Franklin,  Horatio  Nelson,  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  Francis 
I.,  Philip  II.,  Gustavus  Adolphus,  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden, 
and  so  many  fresh  and  interesting  surprises  greeted  me  that  I 
verily  believe  that  at  last  I  should  have  copied  down  in  the 
little  note-book,  from  which  I  am  writing  out  these  memo 
randa,  a  despatch  from  Julius  Cossar,  announcing  that  he  yes- 


246  FROM  LONDON  TO  PARIS. 

terday  passed  the  River  Rubicon,  or  his  "  Fern,  Vidi,  Vici" 
with  the  feeling  that  it  was  quite  correct  that  such  a  docu- 
ment should  be  there. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

From  London  to  Paris.  One  of  the  thoughts  that  comes 
uppermost  in  the  mind  while  one  is  making  preparations  for 
the  jouraey  is  the  passage  of  the  Channel,  about  which  so 
much  has  been  said  and  written  —  a  passage  in  which  old 
Neptune,  though  he  may  have  exempted  the  traveller  on  other 
occasions,  hardly  ever  fails  to  exact  his  tribute.  He  who  can 
pass  the  Channel  in  rough  weather  without  a  qualm,  may 
henceforth  consider  himself  proof  against  any  attack  of  the 
sea  god  upon  his  digestion. 

A  first-class  through  ticket  from  London  to  Paris  costs 
nearly  fifteen  dollars  in  gold ;  but  many  cheapen  the  fare  by 
taking  first-class  boat  and  second-class  railroad  tickets.  The 
railroad  ride  to  Dover  is  about  seventy  miles,  and  the  close 
of  it  carries  us  through  a  tunnel  that  pierces  the  celebrated 
Shakespeare's  Cliff;  and  finally  we  are  landed  on  the  pier 
near  the  little  steamer  that  is  to  take  us  over.  After  a  good 
long  stare  at  the  high,  chalky  cliffs  of  old  Albion,  we  disposed 
ourselves  upon  deck,  comfortable  as  possible,  and  by  rare 
good  fortune  had  a  smooth  passage;  for  of  the  entire  number 
of  passengers,  not  a  single  one  suffered  from  seasickness 
during  the  transit ;  so  that  the  huge  piles  of  wash-bowls  were 
not  even  brought  into  requisition,  and  the  stewards  and  boat 
boys  grumbled  at  the  luck  that  deprived  them  of  so  many  six- 
pences and  shillings. 

"  'Tisn't  horfen  the  Chan'l  runs  as  smooth  as  this,"  said  an 
old  weather-beaten  sort  of  sea  chambermaid,  who  stood  guard 
over  the  bowls.    "She's   flat  as  Dover  Pier  to-day;   but," 


OVER   THE    CHANNEL.  247 

added  he  with  a  grin,  "when  yer  make  hany think  like  a 
smooth  parsidge  over,  yer  sure  to  ketch  a  horful  'eave  comin' 
back." 

And  he  was  right.  There  is  one  comfortable  anticipation, 
however ;  and  that  is,  that  the  sea  trip  occupies  only  an  hour 
and  a  quarter.  Arrived  at  the  great  railroad  station  at 
Calais,  we  had  our  first  experience  of  a  French  railway  buffet, 
or  restaurant,  for  dinner  was  ready  and  the  tables  spread,  the 
passengers  having  ample  time  afforded  them  before  the  train 
started. 

The  neatness  of  the  table  linen,  the  excellence  of  the 
French  bread,  the  bottles  of  claret,  vin  ordinaire,  set  at  in- 
tervals along  the  table,  the  promptness  and  rapidity  of  the 
service,  fine  flavor  of  the  soup,  and  good  cooking  of  the  viands, 
were  noticeable  features.  The  waiters  spoke  both  French 
and  English  ;  they  dashed  about  with  Yankee  celerity ;  and 
gay,  and  jolly,  and  right  hearty  were  the  passengers  after 
their  comfortable  transit.  Now,  in  getting  positions  in  the 
cars  come  trials  of  indifferent  as  well  as  outrageously  bad 
attempts  at  the  French  language,  Avhich  the  French  guards, 
probably  from  long  experience,  contrive  in  some  Avay  to  un- 
derstand, and  not  laugh  at. 

Arrived  at  Paris  after  a  journey  of  eleven  hours  from  Lon- 
don, we  have  even  time,  though  fatigued,  to  admire  the  ad- 
mirable system  that  prevails  at  the  railroad  station,  by  which 
all  confusion  is  prevented  in  obtaining  luggage  or  carriages, 
and  avc  are  soon  whirling  over  the  asphalte,  floor-like  pavements 
to  the  Hotel  de  l'Athenee. 

Here  I  had  my  first  experience  of  the  humbug  of  French 
politeness ;  for,  on  descending  from  the  carriage,  after  my  lug- 
gage had  been  deposited  at  the  very  office  of  the  hotel,  the 
servants,  whose  duty  it  Avas  to  come  forward  and  take  it, 
stood  back,  and  laughed  to  see  the  puzzle  of  a  foreigner  at 
the  demand  for  pour  boire,  which,  in  his  inexperience,  he  did 
not  understand,  and,  when  the  driver  Avas  finally  sent  aAvay 
with  thrice  his  demand,  suffered  luggage,  lady  and  gentleman, 
to  find  their  own  way  to  the  little  cuddy  of  a  bureau,  office 


248  GRAND    nOTELS. 

of  the  hotel,  and  were  with  difficulty  made  to  understand, 
by  a  proficient  in  their  own  tongue,  that  rooms  for  the  party 
were  engaged  there. 

This  house  and  the  Grand  Hotel,  which,  I  believe,  are 
"  run  "  by  the  Credit  Mobilier  Company,  are  perfect  extortion 
mills  in  the  matter  of  charges,  especially  to  Americans,  whom 
the  Parisians  make  a  rule  always  to  charge  very  much  more 
than  any  one  else.  During  the  Exposition  year,  the  Grand 
Hotel  extortions  were  but  little  short  of  barefaced  swindles 
upon  American  guests  ;  and  to  tins  day  there  is  no  way  one 
can  quicker  arouse  the  ire  of  certain  American  citizens  than 
to  refer  to  their  experiences  in  that  great  caravanserai  for 
the  fleecing  of  foreign  visitors. 

The  cuisine  of  these  great  hotels  is  unexceptionable,  the 
rooms,  which  are  either  very  grand .  or  very  small,  well  fur- 
nished, although  comfort  is  too  often  sacrificed  to  display ;  but 
the  attendance  or  attention,  unless  the  servants  are  heavily 
feed,  is  nothing  to  speak  of,  while  the  charges  during  the 
travelling  season  are  a  third  beyond  those  of  other  equally 
good,  though  not  "  grand  "  establishments. 

The  magnificent  new  opera  house,  near  these  hotels,  is  a 
huge  building,  rich  on  the  exterior  with  splendid  statues,  mar- 
bles, medallions,  carving,  and  gilding,  upon  an  island  as  it 
were,  with  the  great,  broad  avenues  on  every  side  of  it ;  and 
as  I  sit  at  table  in  the  salle  a  manger  looking  out  at  it,  I 
am  suddenly  conscious  that  the  English  tongue  appears  to  be 
predominant  about  me ;  and  so  indeed  it  is,  as  a  large  portion 
of  the  guests  at  these  two  hotels  are  Americans  or  English, 
which  accounts  in  a  measure  for  the  high  prices  and  bad 
service,  the  French  considering  Americans  and  English  who 
travel  to  be  moving  money-bags,  from  which  it  is  their  duty 
to  extract  as  much  as  possible  by  every  means  in  their  power. 

The  court-yard  of  the  Grand  Hotel,  around  which,  in  the 
evening,  gentlemen  sit  to  sip  a  cup  of  coffee  and  puff  a  cigar, 
is  such  a  rendezvous  for  Americans,  that  during  the  Exposi- 
tion it  was  proposed  by  some  to  post  up  the  inscription, 
"  French  Spoken  Here,"  for  fear  of  mistakes. 


MODES    OF   LIVING.  249 

The  modes  of  living,  besides  that  at  hotels,  have  been  fre- 
quently described,  and  in  taking  ajjartments,  one  must  be 
very  explicit  with  the  landlord ;  indeed,  it  will  be  well  to  take 
a  written  memorandum  from  him,  else,  on  the  presentation 
of  his  first  bill,  one  may  ascertain  the  true  value  of  a  French- 
man's word,  or  rather  how  valueless  he  considers  a  verbal 
agreement. 

We  had  the  fortune,  however,  in  hiring  apartments,  to  deal 
with  a  Frenchman  who  understood  how  to  bargain  with 
foreigners,  and  had  learned  that  there  was  something  to  bo 
gained  by  dealing  fairly,  and  having  the  reputation  of  being 
honest. 

This  man  did  a  good  business  by  taking  new  houses  im- 
mediately after  they  were  finished,  hiring  furniture,  and  let- 
ting apartments  to  foreigners.  From  him  we  learned  that 
French  people  never  like  to  live  in  an  entirely  new  house, 
one  that  has  been  dwelt  in  by  others  for  a  year  having  the 
preference ;  perhaps  this  pre-occupation  is  siqyposed  to  take 
the  chill  off  the  premises ;  so  our  landlord  made  a  good  thing 
of  it  in  taking  these  houses  at  a  low  rent  of  the  owners  for 
one  year,  and  getting  a  reputation  for  fair  prices,  fair  dealing, 
and  an  accommodating  spirit :  those  who  hired  of  him  were  so 
prompt  to  commend  him  as  an  exception  among  the  crowd 
of  grasping,  cringing  rascals  in  his  business,  that  his  houses  in 
the  pleasant  quarter,  near  the  Arc  d'Etoile  were  constantly 
occupied  by  Americans  and  English. 

In  Paris  do  as  the  Parisians  do ;  and  really  it  is  difficult  to 
do  otherwise  in  the  matter  of  meals.  Breakfast  here  is  taken 
at  twelve  o'clock,  the  day  being  commenced  with  a  cup  of 
coffee  and  a  French  roll,  so  that  between  twelve  and  one 
business  appears  at  its  height  in  the  cafes,  and  almost  sus- 
pended everywhere  else.  To  gastronomic  Yankees,  accus- 
tomed to  begin  the  day  with  a  good  "  square "  meal,  the 
French  dejeuner  is  hardly  sufficient  to  support  the  thre 
hours'  sight-seeing  our  countrymen  calculate  upon  doing  b 
tween  that  time  and  the  real  dejeuner  a  la  fourchette. 

The  sights  and  scenes  of  Paris  have  been  so  thoroughly 


250  tourists'  letters. 

described  within  the  past  three  years,  in  every  style  and  every 
vein,  by  the  army  of  correspondents  who  have  visited  the 
gay  capital,  that  beyond  personal  experiences  it  seems  now 
as  though  but  little  else  could  possibly  be  written.  I  there- 
fore look  at  my  closely-written  note-book,  the  heap  of  little 
memoranda,  and  the  well-pencilled  fly-leaves  of  my  guide- 
books, of  facts,  impressions,  and  experiences,  with  some  feel- 
ings of  doubt  as  to  how  much  of  this  already,  perhaps,  too 
familiar  matter  shall  be  inflicted  upon  the  intelligent  reader ; 
and  yet,  before  I  visited  Paris,  every  letter  of  the  descriptive 
tourist  kind  was  of  interest,  and  since  then  they  are  doubly 
so.  Before  visiting  Europe,  such  letters  were  instruction  for 
what  I  was  to  one  day  experience ;  and  many  a  bit  of  useful 
information,  read  in  the  desultory  letter  of  some  newspaper 
correspondent  which  had  been  nearly  forgotten,  has  come  to 
mind  in  some  foreign  capital,  and  been  of  essential  service, 
while,  as  before  remarked  in  these  pages,  much  of  the  im- 
portant minutiae  of  travel  I  have  been  surprised  has  not  been 
alluded  to.  That  surprise  in  a  measure  vanishes,  when  any 
one  with  a  keen  love  of  travel  finds  how  much  occupies  his 
attention  amid  such  an  avalanche  of  the  enjoyable  things 
that  he  has  read,  studied,  and  dreamed  of,  as  are  encountered 
in  the  great  European  capitals. 

In  Paris  my  first  experience  at  living  was  in  lodgings  in 
a  fine  new  house  on  Avenue  Friedland,  third  flight  (au 
troisieme).  The  apartments  consisted  of  a  salon,  which 
served  as  parlor,  breakfast  and  reception  room,  a  sleeping- 
room,  and  a  dressing-room  with  water  fixtures  and  pegs  for 
clothing.  The  grand  Arc  d'Etoile  was  in  full  view,  and  but 
a  few  rods  from  my  lodgings,  and  consequently  the  very  first 
sight  that  I  "  did." 

This  magnificent  monument  of  the  first  Napoleon  is  almost 
as  conspicuous  a  landmark  in  Paris  as  is  the  State  House  in 
Boston,  and  seems  to  form  the  terminus  of  many  of  the  broad 
streets  that  radiate  from  it,  and  upon  approaching  the  city 
from  certain  points  overtops  all  else  around.  The  arch  is 
situated  in  a  large,  circular  street,  called  the  Place  d'Etoile, 


MAGNIFICENT   AVENUES.  251 

which  is  filled  with  elegant  houses,  with  gardens  in  front,  and 
is  one  of  the  most  fashionable  quarters  of  Paris  :  from  this 
Place  radiate,  as  from  a  great  star,  or  like  the  sticks  of  a 
lady's  fan,  twelve  of  the  most  magnificent  avenues  of  the 
city,  and  from  the  top  of  the  arch  itself  the  spectator  can  look 
straight  down  these  broad  streets  for  miles.  It  is  quite  re- 
cently that  several  of  them  have  been  straightened  and 
widened,  under  the  direction  of  Baron  Haussmann ;  and  one 
cannot  but  see  what  a  commanding  position  a  battery  of 
artillery  would  occupy  stationed  in  this  Place  d'Etoile,  and 
sweeping  down  twelve  great  avenues  to  the  very  centre  of 
the  city. 

The  length,  breadth,  straightness,  regularity,  and  beauty 
of  these  avenues  strike  the  American  visitor  with  astonish- 
ment. Fancy  a  street  twice  as  wide  as  Broadway  or  Wash- 
ington Street,  with  a  sidewalk  as  wide  as  some  of  our  ordinary 
streets,  and  shaded  by  a  double  line  x>f  trees,  the  street  itself 
paved  or  laid  in  concrete  or  smooth  hard  asphalte;  the  houses 
tall,  elegant,  and  of  uniform  style;  brilliant,  with  elegant 
stort  3,  cafes  with  their  crowds  at  the  tables  set  in  front  of 
them;  the  gay, merry  throngs;  little  one-horse  barouches,  the 
French  voitures,  as  they  are  called,  flying  here  and  there,  and 
the  more  stylish  turn-outs  of  the  aristocracy,  —  and  you  have 
some  idea  of  the  great  avenues  leading  up  to  the  Arc  d'Etoile. 
After  passing  this  grand  arch,  you  enter  upon  the  magnificent 
Avenue  de  l'lmperatrice,  three  hundred  feet  wide,  which  leads 
to  the  splendid  Bois  de  Boulogne,  an  avenue  that  is  crowded 
with  the  rush  of  elegant  equipages,  among  which  were  to  be 
seen  those  of  foreign  ambassadors,  rich  residents,  English  and 
other  foreign  noblemen,  French  ballet-dancers,  and  the  demi- 
monde, every  pleasant  afternoon. 

This  great  arch  of  triumph  overwhelms  one  with  its  gran- 
deur and  vastness  upon  near  approach ;  it  lifts  its  square  altar 
over  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  from  the  ground ;  its  width  is 
one  hundred  and  thirty-seven  feet,  and  it  is  sixty-eight  feet  in 
thickness.  The  grand  central  arch  is  a  great  curve,  ninety 
feet  high  an  1  forty-five  wide,  and  a  transverse  arch  —  that  is, 


252  THE    ARCH    OF    TRIUMPH. 

one  going  through  it  from  one  end  to  the  other  —  is  fifty-seven 
feet  high  and  twenty-five  wide.  The  arch  fronts  the  mag- 
nificent Champs  Elysees,  adown  which  broad  vista  the  visitor 
looks  till  he  sees  it  expand  into  the  grand  Place  de  la  Con- 
corde, with  its  fountains  and  column  of  Luxor,  beyond  which 
rise  the  Tuileries.  The  outside  of  this  arch  has  superb  groups, 
representing  warlike  scenes,  allegorical  figures,  &c,  by  some 
of  the  most  celebrated  French  and  Italian  artists.  Some  of 
the  great  figures  of  Victory,  History,  Fame,  &c,  are  from 
eighteen  to  twenty  feet  in  height.  Inside  the  arch,  upon  its 
walls,  are  cut  in  the  solid  stone  the  names  of  nearly  a  hun- 
dred victories,  and  also  the  names  of  French  generals  whose 
bravery  Avon  so  much  renown  for  the  French  nation,  so  much 
glory  for  their  great  Corsican  captain,  and  which  are  names 
that  are  identified  with  his  and  la  grande  armee. 

This  superb  monument  was  commenced,  in  1806,  by  Na- 
poleon, but  not  completed  till  1836;  and  some  idea  maybe 
obtained  of  the  work  and  skill  expended  upon  it  from  its  cost, 
which  was  ten  million  four  hundred  and  thirty-three  thou-  , 
sand  francs,  or  over  two  millions  of  dollars  in  gold.  Two  of 
the  groups  of  bass-reliefs  upon  it  cost  nearly  thirty  thousand 
dollars.  Ascent  to  the  top  is  obtained  by  broad  staircases, 
up  a  flight  of  two  hundred  and  seventy-two  steps,  and  the 
visitor  may  look  down  the  Avenue  de  la  Grande  Armee, 
Avenue  d'Eylau,  or  over  the  beautiful  Avenue  de  l'lmp era- 
trice,  or  Champs  Elysees,  far  as  his  eye  can  reach,  and  still 
farther  by  the  aid  of  the  telescopes  and  spy-glasses  kept  by 
the  custodians  on  the  summit. 

Descending  from  the  arch,  we  will  take  a  stroll  down  the 
Avenue  des  Champs  Elysees  —  the  broad,  beautiful  avenue 
which  appears  to  be  the  favorite  promenade  of  Parisians. 
Upon  either  side  of  this  avenue  are  open  grounds,  and  groves 
of  trees,  in  and  amid  which  is  every  species  of  cheap  amuse- 
ment for  the  people  —  open  booths  in  which  are  little  games 
of  chance  for  cheap  prizes  of  glass  ware  and  toys,  merry-go- 
rounds,  Punch  and  Judy  shows,  elegant  cafes  with  their 
throngs  of  patrons  sitting  in  front  and  watching  the  passers 


PARIS    BY   GAS-LIGIIT.  253 

by,  or  t  ic  gay  equipages  on  their  way  to  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne. In  one  of  these  groves,  at  the  side  of  the  Champs 
Elysees,  is  the  Circus  of  the  Empress,  where  feats  of  horse- 
manship are  performed,  and  in  another  a  fine  military  band 
plays  every  afternoon;  the  old  Palais  de  l'Industrie  fronts 
upon  this  avenue,  and  the  celebrated  Jardin  Mabille  is  but  a 
few  steps  from  it;  but  this  should  be  seen  by  gas-light;  so, 
indeed,  should  the  whole  avenue,  which  by  night,  in  the  sum- 
mer,  presents  a  most  fury-like  scene.  Then  the  groves  are 
illuminated  by  thousands  of  colored  lights ;  Cafes  Chantants 
are  seen  with  gayly-dressed  singers,  sitting  in  ornamented 
kiosks,  which  are  illuminated  by  jets  of  gas  in  every  con- 
ceivable form ;  here,  at  a  corner,  a  huge  lyre  of  fire  blazes,  and 
beneath  it  shines,  in  burning  letters,  the  name  of  a  celebrated 
cafe,  or  theatre;  the  little  booths  and  penny  shows  are  all 
gayly  illuminated ;  gas  gleams  and  flashes  in  all  sorts  of  fan- 
tastic forms  from  befoi'e  and  within  the  cafe ;  and,  looking  far 
up  the  avenue,  to  where  the  great  arch  rears  its  dark  form, 
you  see  thousands  of  colored  lights  flitting  too  and  fro, 
hither  and  thither,  in  every  direction,  like  a  troup  of  elves  on 
a  midnight  gambol ;  these  are  the  lights  upon  the  cabs  and 
voitures,  which  are  obliged  by  law  to  have  them,  and  those 
of  different  quarters  of  the  city  are  distinguished  the  one  from 
the  other  by  different  colors. 

The  cheapness  and  convenience  of  these  little  one-horse 
open  barouches  of  Paris  make  us  long  for  the  time  when 
they  and  the  English  Hansom  cab  shall  displace  the  great, 
cumbersome  carriage  we  now  use  in  America.  One  of  these 
little  fiacres,  which  you  can  hail  at  any  time,  and  almost  any- 
where in  the  streets  of  Paris,  carries  you  anywhere  you  may 
choose,  to  go  in  the  city  from  one  point  to  another,  for  a  franc 
and  a  half  fare,  and  a  pour  boire  of  about  three  or  four  cents 
to  the  driver;  or,  if  taken  by  the  hour,  you  can  glide  over  the 
asphalte  floor-like  streets  at  the  rate  of  two  francs  an  hour. 
The  police  regulations  respecting  fares  are  very  strict  and 
rigidly  enforced,  as,  in  fact,  are  all  the  police  regulations, 
which  are  most  excellent;  and  the  order,  system,  and  regu- 


254  PLACE   DE   LA   CONCORDE. 

larity  which  characterize  all  arrangements  at  places  of  public 
resort  and  throughout  the  city,  give  the  stranger  a  feeling  of 
perfect  safety  and  confidence  —  confidence  that  he  is  under 
the  protection  and  eye  of  a  power  and  a  law,  one  which  is 
prompt  and  efficient  in  its  action,  and  in  no  way  to  be  trifled 
with.  The  fiacre  drivers  all  have  their  printed  carte  of  the 
tariff,  upon  which  is  their  number,  which  they  hand  to  cus- 
tomers upon  entering  the  vehicle ;  these  can  be  used  in  case 
of  imposition  or  dispute,  which,  however,  very  seldom  occurs ; 
rewards  are  given  to  drivers  for  honesty  in  restoring  articles 
left  in  vehicles,  and  the  property  thus  restored  to  owners  by 
the  police  in  the  course  of  a  year  is  very  large,  sometimes 
reaching  sixty  or  seventy  thousand  dollars. 

Straight  down  the  broad  Champs  Elysees,  till  we  came 
into  that  magnificent  and  most  beautiful  of  all  squares  in 
Paris,  the  Place  de  la  Concorde.  Here,  in  this  great  open 
square,  which  the  guide-books  describe  ns  four  hundred  paces 
in  length,  and  the  same  in  width,  several  other  superb  views 
of  the  grand  avenues  and  splendid  public  buildings  are  ob- 
tained. Standing  in  the  centre,  I  looked  back,  up  the  broad 
Champs  Elysees,  more  than  a  mile  in  length,  the  whole 
course  slightly  rising  in  grade,  till  the  view  terminated  with 
the  Triumphal  Arch.  Looking  upon  one  side,  we  saw  the  old 
palace  of  the  Bourbons,  now  the  palace  of  the  Corps  Legis- 
latif.  Fronting  upon  one  side  of  the  Place  are  two  magnifi- 
cent edifices,  used  as  government  offices,  and  up  through  the 
Rue  Royale  that  divides  them,  the  vista  is  terminated  by  the 
magnificent  front  of  the  Madeleine.  . 

Here,  in  the  centre  of  the  square,  we  stood  opposite  the 
celebrated  obelisk  of  Luxor,  that  expensive  gift  of  the  Pacha 
of  Egypt  to  Louis  Philippe,  and  which,  from  the  numerous 
bronze  models  of  it  sold  in  the  fancy  goods  stores  in  America, 
is  getting  to  be  almost  as  familiar  as  Bunker  Hill  monument. 
Indeed,  a  salesman  in  Tiffany  and  Company's  room  of 
bronzes,  in  Broadway,  New  York,  once  told  me  that,  not- 
withstanding the  hieroglyphics  upon  the  bronze  representa- 
tions of  this  obelisk  that  they  sell,  he  had  more  than  once 


SITE    OF    TIIE    GUILLOTINE.  255 

had  people,  who  looked  as  though  they  ought  to  have  known 
better,  cry  out,  "  O,  here's  Bunker  Hill  Monument ;  and  it 
looks  just  like  it,  too." 

The  Luxor  obelisk  was  a  heavy,  as  well  as  an  expensive 
present,  for  it  weighed  five  hundred  thousand  pounds,  and 
it  cost  the  French  government  more  than  forty  thousand 
dollars  to  get  it  in  place  upon  its  pedestal ;  but  now  that  it  is 
here,  it  makes  a  fine  appearance,  and,  as  far  as  proportions 
and  looks  go,  appears  to  be  very  appropriately  placed  in  the 
centre  of  this  magnificent  square,  its  monolith  of  red  granite 
rising  one  hundred  feet ;  though,  as  we  lean  over  the  rail 
that  surrounds  it,  the  thought  suggests  itself,  that  this  old 
chronicle  of  the  deeds  of  Sesostris  the  Great,  who  reigned 
more  than  a  thousand  years  before  Paris  had  an  existence, 
and  whose  hundred-gated  city  is  now  a  heap  of  ruins,  was 
really  as  out  of  place  here,  in  the  great  square  of  the  gayest 
of  modern  capitals,  as  a  funeral  monument  in  a  crowded 
street,  or  an  elegy  among  the  pages  of  a  novel.  Around  the 
square,  at  intervals,  are  eight  huge  marble  statues,  seated 
upon  pedestals,  which  represent  eight  of  the  great  cities  of 
France,  such  as  Marseilles,  Rouen,  Lyons,  Bordeaux,  &c. 
Each  figure  is  said  to  face  in  the  direction  in  which  the  city 
or  town  it  is  called  for  lies  from  Paris. 

The  Great  bronze  fountains  that  stand  in  the  centre  of  the 
square  have  round  basins,  fifty  feet  in  diameter,  above  which 
rise  others  of  lesser  sizes.  Tritons  and  water  nymphs  about 
the  lower  basin  hold  dolphins,  which  spout  streams  of  water 
into  the  upper  one.s,  and  at  the  base  sit  ponderous  granite 
figures,  which  the  Parisians  say  do  well  to  sit  down,  for,  if 
they  stood  up,  they  would  soon  be  fatigued  by  their  own 
weight.  But  the  great  fountain  here  in  the  Place  de  la  Con- 
corde marks  an  historic  spot.  It  is  no  more  nor  less  than  the 
site  of  that  horrid  instrument,  the  guillotine,  during  the 
French  revolution ;  and  it  was  here,  in  this  great  square,  now 
filled  with  bright  and  happy  crowds,  gazing  at  the  flashing 
waters  of  the  fountains,  the  statues,  and  obelisk,  or  rambling 
amid  the  pretty  walks,  lined  with  manydiued  flowers,  in  the 


256  THE    REIGN    OF    TERROR. 

gardens  of  the  Tuilleries  near  by,  —  it  was  here,  round  and 
about,  that  the  fierce  crowd  surged  during  some  of  the 
bloodiest  scenes  in  French  history.  Near  where  rises  the 
bronze  fountain,  the  horrid  scaffold  once  stood ;  here,  where 
the  crystal  streams  rush  and  foam,  shine  and  sparkle  in  the 
sunbeams,  once  poured  out  the  richest  and  basest  blood  of 
France,  in  torrents  almost  rivalling  those  that  now  dash  into 
the  great  basin  that  covers  the  spot  they  crimsoned;  here 
the  head  of  Louis  XVI.  fell  from  his  shoulders ;  here  Char- 
lotte Corday  met  death  unterrified ;  here  twenty-two  Giron- 
dists poured  out  their  life-blood;  here  poor  Marie  Antoinette 
bent  her  neck  to  the  cruel  knife,  and  the  father  of  Louis 
Philippe  met  his  death ;  here  the  victims  of  the  fell  tyrant 
Robespierre  fell  by  hundreds.  At  length  Danton  himself,  and 
his  party,  were  swept  before  the  descending  axe ;  and  finally 
the  bloody  Robespierre  and  his  fierce  associates  met  a  just 
retribution  beneath  the  sweep  of  the  insatiate  blade,  sixty  or 
seventy  falling  beneath  it  in  a  day. 

Great  heavens  !  would  they  never  tire  of  blood,  or  was  the 
clang  of  the  guillotine  music  to  their  ears,  that  for  more  than 
two  years  they  kept  the  horrid  machine  in  motion,  till  twenty- 
eight  hundred  victims  fell  beneath  its  stroke!  Well  said 
Chateaubriand,  in  opposing  the  erection  of  a  fountain  upon 
the  very  site  of  the  scaffold,  that  all  the  water  in  the  world 
would  not  be  sufficient  to  efface  the  bloody  stains  with  which 
the  place  was  sullied.  It  thus  fell  out  that  it  was  agreed, 
that  any  monument  placed  in  this  memorable  square  should 
be  one  which  should  bear  no  allusion  to  political  events,  and 
the  gift  of  Mehemet  Ali  afforded  opportunity  to  place  one. 
So  here  the  laudatory  inscription  to  a  warlike  Egyptian  of 
three  thousand  years  ago  and  more  is  placed,  to  change  the 
current  of  men's  thoughts,  who  may  stand  here  and  think  of 
the  surging  crowd  of  fierce  sans-culoites,  and  still  fiercer 
women,  who  once  thronged  this  place,  and  who  were  treated 
to  their  fill  of  what  their  brutal  natures  demanded  —  blood, 
blood ! 

But  are  these  the  people  that  would  do  such  horrid  deeds 


IMPROVEMENTS   IN   PAEIS.  257 

—  these  men  we  see  around  us,  with  varnished  boots,  immac- 
ulate linen,  and  irreproachable  costume  ?  these  ladies,  gentle 
creatures,  with  faultless  costume,  ravishing  boots,  dainty  toi- 
lets, and  the  very  butterflies  of  fashion  ?  If  you  would  like 
something  approaching  a  realization  of  your  imagination, 
wait  till  you  get  into  the  Latin  quarter,  or  in  some  of  the 
old  parts  of  Paris,  where  narrow  lanes  have  not  yet  been 
made  into  broad  avenues;  where  low-browed,  blue-bloused 
workmen  are  playing  dominoes  in  cheap  wine-shops ;  and 
coarse  women,  with  big,  bare,  red  arms,  and  handkerchief- 
swathed  heads,  stand  in  the  doorways  and  bandy  obscene 
jests  at  the  passers  by;  where  foul  odors  assail  the  olfac- 
tories; where  you  meet  the  sergent-de-ville  frequently;  and 
where,  despite  of  what  you  have  heard  of  the  great  improve- 
ments made  in  Paris,  you  see  just  such  places  as  the  Tapis 
Franc,  described  in  Eugene  Sue's  Mysteries  of  Paris,  and  in 
Avhich,  despite  the  excellence  of  the  Parisian  police,  you  had 
rather  not  trust  yourself  after  dark  without  a  guard ;  and  you 
will  meet  to-day  those  whom  it  would  seemingly  take  but 
little  to  transform  into  the  fierce  mob  of  1792. 

The  gigantic  improvements  made  in  Paris  during  the 
reign  of  Louis  Napoleon  are  apparent  even  to  the  newly- 
arrived  tourist,  and  are  unequalled  by  any  city  in  the  world. 
Broad,  elegant  avenues  have  been  cut  through  densely-pop- 
ulated and  filthy  districts  ;  great  squares,  monuments,  opera- 
houses,  theatres,  and  public  buildings  of  unexampled  splendor 
have  arisen  on  every  side;  palaces  and  monuments  have  been 
repaired  and  restored,  the  great  quadrangle  of  the  Louvre 
and  Tuilleries  completed.  Turn  which  way  one  will,  he  sees 
the  evidences  of  this  remarkable  man's  ability  —  excellent 
police  arrangements,  drainage,  public  works,  liberality  to  for- 
eigners, &c.  What  little  opportunity  I  had  of  judging  the 
French  people  almost  leads  me  to  believe  that  no  government 
could  be  invented  under  the  sun  that  would  satisfy  them  for 
any  length  of  time,  and  that  they  would  attempt  revolutions 
merely  for  a  new  sensation. 

From  this  square  it  is  but  a  few  steps  to  the  garden  of  the 
17 


258  THE    BASTILLE. 

Tuilleries.  The  portion  of  the  garden  that  is  immediately 
contiguous  to  the  palace  is  not  open  to  the  public,  but  sepa- 
rated from  it  by  a  sort  of  trench  and  'an  iron  railing.  The 
public  portion  of  the  garden  is  beautifully  laid  out  with 
parterres  of  flowers,  fountains,  bronze  and  marble  statues, 
&c.  While  promenading  its  walks,  our  attention  was  at- 
tracted to  a  man  who  seemed  upon  the  best  of  terms  with 
the  birds  that  flew  from  the  trees  and  bushes,  and  perched 
upon  his  head,  hands,  and  arms,  ate  bird-seed  off  his  hat  and 
shoulders,  and  even  plucked  it  from  between  his  lips.  He 
was  evidently  either  some  "  Master  of  the  Birds  to  the  Em- 
peror," or  a  favored  bird-charmer,  as  he  appeared  to  be  famil- 
iarly acquainted  with  the  feathered  warblers,  and  also  the 
police,  who  sauntered  by  without  interfering  with  him. 

The  exciting  scenes  of  French  history,  that  are  familiar  to 
every  school-boy's  memory,  render  Paris,  to  say  nothing  of 
its  other  attractions,  one  of  those  points  fraught  with  histori- 
cal associations  that  the  student  longs  to  visit.  To  stand 
upon  the  very  spot  where  the  most  memorable  events  of 
French  history  took  place,  beneath  the  shadow  of  some  of 
the  self-same  buildings  and  monuments  that  have  looked 
down  upon  them,  and  to  picture  in  one's  mind  how  those 
scenes  of  the  past  must  have  appeared,  is  pleasant  experience 
to  those  of  an  imaginative  turn.  Here  we  stand  in  the  Place 
de  la  Bastille,  the  very  site  of  the  famous  French  prison ;  the 
horrors  of  its  dungeons  and  the  cruelties  of  its  jailers  have 
chilled  the  blood  of  youth  and  roused  the  indignation  of  ma- 
turer  years ;  but  here  it  was  rent  asunder  and  the  inmost  secrets 
exposed  by  the  furious  mob,  in  the  great  revolution  of  1789, 
and  not  a  vestige  of  the  terrible  prison  now  remains.  In  the 
broad,  open  square  rises  a  tall  monument  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet,  from  the  summit  of  which  a  figure  of  Liberty,  with 
a  torch  in  one  hand  and  broken  chain  in  another,  is  poised 
npon  one  foot,  as  if  about  to  take  flight.  The  stones  of  the 
cruel  dungeons  of  the  Bastille  now  form  the  Pont  de  la  Con- 
corde, trampled  under  foot,  as  they  should  be,  by  the  throngs 
that  daily  pass  and  repass  that  splendid  bridge.     The  last  his 


COLUMN    VENDOME.  259 

torical  and  revolutionary  act  in  this  square  was  the  burning 
of  Louis  Philippe's  throne  there  in  1848. 

Passing  through  the  Rue  cle  la  Paix,  celebrated  for  its 
handsome  jewelry  and  gentlemen's  furnishing  goods  stores,  and 
as  a  street  where  you  may  be  sure  of  paying  the  highest  price 
asked  in  Paris  for  any  thing  you  wish  to  purchase,  we  came 
out  into  the  Place  Vendome,  in  the  middle  of  which  stands 
the  historic  column  we  have  so  often  read  of,  surmounted  by 
the  bronze  statue  of  the  great  Napoleon,  who  erected  this 
splendid  and  appropriate  trophy  of  his  victories.  One  hun- 
dred and  thirty-five  feet  high,  and  twelve  in  diameter,  is  this 
well-known  column,  and  the  bronze  bass-reliefs,  which  com- 
mence at  the  base  and  circle  round  the  shaft  to  its  top,  are 
cast  from  twelve  hundred  pieces  of  Russian  and  Austrian 
cannon,  which  the  great  Corsican  captured  in  his  campaign 
of  1805,  which  ended  with  the  tremendous  battle  of  Auster- 
litz.  The  bass-reliefs  on  the  pedestal  are  huge  groups  of  weap- 
ons, war-like  emblems,  &c,  and  four  huge  bronze  eagles, 
weighing  five  hundred  pounds  each,  holding  wreaths,  are 
perched  at  the  four  corners  of  the  pedestal. 

The  iron  railing  around  this  monument  is  thickly  hung 
with  wreaths  of  immortelles ;  these  are  placed  here  by  the 
surviving  soldiers  of  the  grand  army  of  Napoleon  I.,  and  are 
renewed  once  a  year  upon  some  celebrated  anniversary,  when 
the  spectacle  of  this  handful  of  trembling  veterans  of  the  first 
empire,  showing  their  devotion  to  the  memory  of  their  great 
chieftain,  is  a  most  touching  one,  while  the  deference  and  hon- 
or shown  to  these  shattered  relics  of  France's  warlike  host, 
whose  deeds  have  won  it  an  imperishable  name  in  military 
glory,  must  be  gratifying  to  their  pride.  I  saw  an  old  shrunk- 
en veteran  with  a  wooden  lesc  hobbling  along  with  a  stick, 
who  wore  an  old-fashioned  uniform,  upon  which  glittered  the 
medals  and  decorations  of  the  first  empire,  to  whom  senti- 
nels at  public  stations,  as  he  passed,  presented  arms  with  a 
clang  and  clatter  that  seemed  to  send  the  faint  sparks  of 
dying  fire  up  into  his  eyes,  with  a  momentary  martial  gleam 
beneath  his  shaggy  white  eyebrows,  as  he  raised  his  shrunken 


260  THE    OLD    GUARD. 

hand  in  acknowledgment  to  his  old-fashioned  kepi,  while  the 
military  salutes,  and  even  deferential  raising  of  hats,  of  young 
officers,  his  superiors  in  rank,  that  he  passed,  were  returned 
with  a  smile  heneath  his  snowy  mustache  that  bespoke  what 
an  incense  to  his  pride  as  a  soldier  of  the  grand  army  were 
all  such  tokens. 

But  it  was  a  still  more  interesting  sight  to  see,  at  the  court- 
yard of  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  at  about  noon,  on  the  occasion 
of  some  daily  military  routine,  some  thirty  or  forty  of  these 
old  soldiers  in  various  uniforms,  wearing  side  arms  only,  some 
hobbling  upon  one  leg,  others  coming  feebly  but  determinedly 
into  line  as  they  ever  did  on  the  great  battle-fields  of  the 
empire,  and  stand  in  dress  parade  while  the  band  played  its 
martial  strains,  and  their  own  flags  surmounted  by  the  French 
eagles  waved  before  them,  and  a  splendid  battalion  of  French 
troops  (some  of  their  sons  and  grandsons,  perhaps),  officers 
and  men,  presented  arms  to  them  as  they  saluted  the  flags 
they  had  won  renown  under  half  a  century  before,  and  then 
slowly,  and  with  an  effort  at  military  precision  that  was  al- 
most comical,  filed  back  to  their  quarters. 

We  used  to  read  in  Rogers's  poem  of  Ginevra  that, 

"If  ever  you  should  come  to  Modena, 
(Where,  among  other  relics,  you  may  see 
Tassoni's  bucket;  but  'tis  not  the  true  one  ;  ") 

so,  also,  if  ever  you  should  go  to  Paris,  you  will  be  shown  at 
one  end  of  the  Louvre  a  large  window,  from  which  you  will 
be  told  Charles  IX.  fired  upon  the  flying  Huguenots  as  they 
ran  from  the  ferocious  mob  that  pursued  them  with  bloody 
weapons  and  cries  of  "  lull,  kill ! "  on  the  night  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew, 1572;  but  this  window  is  "not  the  true  one,"  for 
it  was  not  built  till  long  after  the  year  of  the  massacre ;  but 
the  old  church  of  St.  Germain  l'Auxerrois,  near  by,  from  the 
belfry  of  which  first  issued  the  fatal  signal  of  that  terrible 
night,  is  still  standing,  and  the  Parisians  in  that  vicinity  find 
it  easy  to  detect  strangers  and  foreigners,  from  their  pausing 
and  looking  up  at  this  church  with  an  expression  of  interest. 


THE   LOUVRE.  261 

The  Louvre  !  Every  letter-writer  goes  into  ecstasies  over 
it,  is  struck  with  wonder  at  its  vastness,  and  luxuriates  in  the 
inspection  of  its  priceless  treasures.  The  completion  of  the 
connection  of  the  Louvre  with  the  Tuilleries,  made  by  Louis 
Napoleon,  gives  a  grand  enclosed  space,  surrounded  on  all 
sides  by  the  magnificent  buildings  of  this  great  gallery  of  fine 
arts  and  the  royal  palaces. 

At  one  end,  dividing  the  court-yard  of  the  Louvre  from 
that  of  the  Tuileries,  rises  the  triumphal  Arc  du  Carrousel, 
erected  by  Napoleon  in  1806,  surmounted  with  its  car  of 
victory  and  bronze  horses ;  and  here  the  memory  of  the  army 
of  the  first  empire  is  perpetuated  by  statues  of  cuirassiers, 
infantry  and  artillerymen,  in  the  uniform  of  their  different 
corps,  and  the  fashion  in  vogue  at  that  time,  while  bass- 
reliefs  represent  various  battle  scenes  in  which  they  figured. 
It  was  in  this  open  space,  now  the  most  magnificent  court  in 
Europe,  that  the  guillotine  was  first  set  up,  before  it  was  re- 
moved to  the  square  which  is  now  the  Place  de  la  Concorde. 
An  iron  fence  runs  across  the  court-yard  at  this  point,  mak- 
ing a  division  of  the  space,  as  it  is  from  an  entrance  in  the 
palace,  fronting  this  arch,  that  the  emperor,  empress,  and  im- 
perial family  generally  make  their  entrance  and  exit. 

The  architectural  appearance  and  ornaments  of  these  ele- 
gant buildings  combine  to  form  a  splendid  interior,  as  it  were, 
of  this  vast  enclosed  square  ;  the  buildings,  fronted  with  Co- 
rinthian columns,  elegant  and  elaborate  sculptures,  and  stat- 
ues, form  a  space  something  like  a  vast  parallelogram,  their 
uniformity  being  interrupted  by  magnificent  and  lofty  pavil- 
ions, as  they  are  called.  When  we  say  the  Boston  City  Hall 
is  somewhat  of  a  poor  copy  of  one  of  these  pavilions,  it  may 
give  the  reader  an  idea  of  what  they  are.  Their  fronts  are 
adorned  with  great  groups  of  statuary,  wreaths,  decorations, 
and  allegorical  figures,  beautifully  cut,  and  through  their  vast 
gateways  ingress  is  had  from  the  street.  All  along  the  front 
of  the  buildings,  upon  this  interior  space,  are  statues  of  dis- 
tinguished men  of  France.  I  counted  over  eighty  of  them. 
Among  them  were  those  of  Colbert,  Mazarin,  Racine,  Voltaire, 
Vauban,  Buffon,  Richelieu,  Montaigne,  &c. 


262  WORKS    OF   NAPOLEON   III. 

The  completion  of  the  connection  of  the  two  palaces  by  Louis 
Napoleon  has  rendered  this  court-yard  indescribably  grand  and 
elegant,  while  its  vastness  strikes  the  beholder  with  astonish- 
ment. The  space  that  is  now  enclosed  and  covered  by  the  old 
and  new  Louvre  and  Tuileries  is  about  sixty  acres.  An  idea  of 
the  large  amount  of  money  that  has  been  lavished  upon  these 
elegant  piles  may  be  obtained  from  the  fact  that  the  cost  of 
the  sculptures  on  the  new  part  of  the  building  is  nearly  half 
a  million  dollars;  but  then,  perhaps,  as  an  American  re- 
marked, it  ought  to  be  a  handsome  place,  since  they  have 
been  over  three  hundred  years  building  it.  Some  of  the 
finest  portions  of  the  architectural  designs  of  the  facade  of 
the  Louvre  were  completed  by  Napoleon  I.  from  the  designs 
of  Perrault,  a  physician,  and  the  author  of  fully  as  enduring- 
monuments  of  genius  —  those  charming  fairy  tales  of  Cin- 
derella, Bluebeard,  and  the  Sleeping  Beauty.  Perhaps  the 
ornamental  columns  and  beautiful  decorations  were  some- 
thing of  a  realization  of  his  ideas  of  palaces  of  the  fairies 
and  genii,  in  his  charming  stories. 

The  work  of  improvement  upon  the  buildings  and  court, 
yard  of  the  Louvre  is  still  going  on,  and  the  present  emperor 
will  leave  here,  as  well  as  in  many  other  parts  of  Paris,  the 
impress  of  his  power,  as  used  for  beautifying  the  French  cap- 
ital, and  raising  enduring  monuments  of  the  encouragement 
of  improvements,  progress,  and  the  arts,  during  his  reign. 

We  have  been  in  and  through  the  Louvre,  not  in  one  visit, 
but  again  and  again,  over  acres  of  flooring,  past  miles  of  pic- 
tures, —  a  plethora  of  luxurious  art,  —  days  of  wonder,  and 
hours  of  sight-seeing.  How  many  originals  we  have  gazed 
upon  that  we  have  seen  copies  of  in  every  style !  how  many 
pictures  of  great  artists  that  we  have  read  of,  and  how  many 
curious  and  wonderful  historical  relics  and  antiquities! 
What  an  opportunity  for  the  student  and  the  artist,  what  a 
source  of  amusement  and  entertainment,  what  a  privilege, 
in  these  old  countries,  is  the  free  admission  to  these  costly 
aud  well-stocked  galleries  of  art  —  here,  where  we  may  see 
hundreds   of  celebrated  pictures   and   statues,  any  two  of 


A   WEALTH    OF    ART.  2G3 

which  would  "pay  handsomely,"  placed  on  exhibition  in  one 
of  our  great  American  cities ;  here,  where  there  are  seven 
miles  of  pictures,  and  their  catalogue  makes  a  thick  book  of 
over  seven  hundred  pages ;  here,  where,  if  you  were  to  start 
and  walk  constantly,  without  stopping  an  instant  to  rest,  it 
would  require  three  hours  to  pass  through  the  different  apart- 
ments ;  here,  where,  perhaps,  the  American  tourist  or  news- 
paper correspondent  sharpens  his  pencil  and  takes  a  fresh 
note-book,  with. the  feeling  that  it  is  a  prolific  field,  but  is 
overwhelmed  with  an  ocean  of  art,  and  consoles  himself  with 
the  thought  that  the  Louvre  has  been  so  often  described, 
written  about,  and  commented  on,  that  the  subject  is  worn 
threadbare ;  and  that  the  public  has  had  enough  of  rhapso- 
dies and  descriptions  of  it. 

And  he  is  more  than  half  right.  The  Louvre  alone  is  a 
great  exposition,  that  would  suffice  to  attract  thousands  of 
foreigners  to  Paris.  The  number  of  visitors  is  immense. 
Galignani  says  that 'the  produce  of  the  sale  of  catalogues 
amounts  to  forty  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  more  than 
twenty  thousand  dollars  per  annum  are  taken  for  depositing 
canes  and  umbrellas  at  the  door,  the  charge  for  which  service 
is  only  two  or  three  sous.  It  is  best  to  avoid,  if  possible,  the 
taking  of  canes,  parasols,  and  umbrellas  with  you,  as  it  may 
chance  that  you  will  desire  to  make  exit  at  some  point  dis- 
tant from  that  of  entrance,  and  save  the  trouble  of  returning 
for  the  impedimenta. 

I  commenced  with  a  determination,  like  many  others,  to 
see  the  Louvre  thoroughly  and  systematically,  and  therefore 
began  with  the  basement  story,  entering  the  museum  of 
Assyrian  antiquities,  thence  into  Egyptian  halls  of  curiosities, 
where  the  visitor  gets  view  of  a  large  and  interesting  collec- 
tion from  the  cities  of  Nineveh,  Thebes,  &c,  the  results  of 
the  researches  and  discoveries  of  French  savants  and  trav- 
ellers in  the  East  —  vases,  mummies,  fragments  of  sculptured 
stones  and  figures,  manuscripts,  besides  articles  of  domestic 
use  among  the  ancient  Egyptians. 

Here  were  the  mirrors  that  Theban  dames  arranged  their 


264  STATUARY    AT    TOE    LOUVRE. 

dark  tresses  at,  and  the  combs,  needle  and  toilet  cases  that 
they  used;  musical  instruments,  games,  and  weights  and 
measures ;  articles  of  ornament,  and  of  the  household,  that 
have  been  exhumed  from  the  monuments  of  ancient  cities  — 
a  rare  and  curious  collection ;  then  come  the  Algerian  mu- 
seum, the  Renaissance  sculpture  gallery,  with  beautiful 
groups  of  bronze  and  marble  statuary,  dating  from  the  com- 
mencement of  the  sixteenth  century,  among  which  is  the  cel- 
ebrated one  of  Diana  with  the  Stag,  the  likeness  being  that 
of  Diane  de  Poitiers,  mistress  of  Henry  II. ;  then  come  the 
five  different  halls  of  modern  sculptures,  where  we  saw  Cano- 
va's  Cupid  and  Psyche,  Julien's  Ganymede  and  Eagle,  Bar- 
tolini's  colossal  bust  of  Bonaparte,  and  groups  representing 
Cupid  cutting  his  bow  from  Hercules'  club,  Perseus  releasing 
Andromeda,  and  many  others. 

Next  we  reach  the  museum  of  antique  marbles,  a  grand 
gallery,  divided  off  into  half  partitions,  and  rich  in  superb 
ancient  statuary.  One  of  the  halls  of  this  gallery  is  noted 
as  being  that  in  which  Henry  IV.  was  married ;  and  here, 
too,  was  his  body  brought  after  his  assassination  by  Ravail- 
lac ;  but  the  visitor's  thoughts  of  historical  associations  are 
banished  by  the  beautiful  works  of  art  that  meet  him  on 
every  hand.  Here  is  Centaur  overcome  by  Bacchus,  the 
Borghese  Vase,  the  Stooping  Venus,  Pan,  the  Three  Graces, 
Hercules  and  Telej)hus,  Mars,  Cupid  proving  his  bow,  Dan- 
cing Faun,  a  magnificent  figure  of  Melpomene,  twelve  feet  high, 
with  the  drapery  falling  so  naturally  about  as  almost  to  cheat 
belief  that  it  was  the  work  of  the  sculptor's  chisel ;  another 
magnificent  colossal  figure  of  Minerva,  about  ten  feet  high, 
armed  with  helmet  and  shield;  the  Borghese  Gladiator,  a 
splendid  figure ;  Wounded  Amazon,  Satyr  and  Faun,  Diana 
and  the  Deer,  Wounded  Gladiator,  Bass-relief  of  triumphal 
procession  of  Bacchus  and  Ariadne,  &c. 

I  am  aware  that  this  enumeration  will  seem  something  like 
a  reproduction  of  a  catalogue  to  some  readers,  though  it  is 
but  the  pencilled  memoranda  of  a  very  few  of  the  notable 
pieces  in  this  magnificent  collection,  before  which  I  was  ena 


A   GODDESS.  265 

bled  to  halt  anything  like  long  enough  to  examine  strictly 
and  admire ;  for  the  days  seemed  all  too  short,  our  few  weeks 
in  Paris  too  brief,  and  this  grand  collection,  with  other  sight- 
seeing, a  formidable  undertaking,  as  we  now  began  to  con- 
template it,  when  I  found  myself  still  upon  this  basement 
floor  of  the  Louvre  after  nearly  a  day's  time,  and  the  thought 
that  if  my  resolution  to  sec  the  whole,  systematically  and 
thoroughly,  were  faithfully  carried  out,  almost  a  season  in 
Paris  would  be  required,  and  but  little  time  left  for  anything 
else. 

I  have  seen  copies,  and  busts,  and  engravings  of  the  Venus 
of  Milo  a  hundred  times,  but  never  was  attracted  by  it 
enough  to  go  into  raptures  over  its  beauty,  being,  perhaps, 
unable  to  view  it  with  an  artistic  eye ;  but  as  I  chanced  to 
approach  the  great  original  here  from  a  very  favorable  point 
of  view,  as  it  stood  upon  its  pedestal,  with  the  mellow  light 
of  the  afternoon  falling  upon  the  beautiful  head  and  shoul- 
ders, the  eifect  upon  me  was  surprising  to  myself.  I  thought 
I  never  before  had  gazed  upon  more  exquisitely  moulded  fea- 
tures. The  featui-es  seemed  really  those  of  a  goddess,  and 
admiration  divided  itself  in  the  beauty  of  the  production  and 
the  p-enius  of  an  artist  that  could  conceive  and  execute  it.  I 
am  not  ashamed  to  say,  that  during  the  hour  I  spent  in  the 
room  in  which  this  beautiful  work  of  art  is  placed,  I  came  to 
a  better  understanding  concerning  some  of  the  enthusiasm 
respecting  art  manifested  by  certain  friends,  which  I  had 
hitherto  regarded  as  commonplace  expressions,  or  was  at  loss 
to  understand  the  real  feeling  that  prompted  their  fervor. 

If  the  visitor  is  amazed  at  the  line  collection  of  sculpture 
and  statuary,  what  are  his  feelings  at  beholding  the  grand 
and  almost  endless  halls  of  paintings  as  he  ascends  to  the 
floors  above!  Here,  grand  galleries,  spacious  and  well  lighted, 
stretch  out  seemingly  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  while  halls 
and  ante-rooms,  here  and  there  passages,  and  vestibules,  and 
rooms,  are  crammed  with  the  very  wealth  of  art ;  here  the 
chefs  cVoeuvre  of  the  great  artists  of  Europe,  known  all  over 
the  world  by  copies  and  engravings,  are  collected ;  and  the 


266  ARTISTS   AT    WORK. 

pleasure  of  looking  upon  these  great  originals  is  a  gratifica- 
tion not  easy  to  be  described. 

The  lover  of  art,  as  he  passes  from  point  to  point,  from 
one  great  work  to  another,  to  each  fresh  surprise  that  awaits 
him,  feels  like  shaking  hands  mentally  with  himself  in  con- 
gratulation at  the  enjoyment  experienced  in  seeing  so  much 
of  real  and  genuine  art  collected  together,  and  under  such 
favorable  circumstances. 

The  paintings  in  the  galleries  are  all  arranged  according  to 
different  schools  of  art.  Thus  the  Spanish,  Dutch,  and  Ger- 
man schools  are  arrayed  in  one  gallery,  the  Italian  in  another, 
the  modern  French  school  in  another;  and  these  are  further 
arranged  in  subdivisions,  so  that  the  student  and  art  lover 
may  study,  inspect,  or  coj^y,  in  any  department  of  art  that  he 
may  desire. 

What  a  host  of  masterpieces  in  the  great  gallery !  And 
here  were  artists,  male  and  female,  copying  them.  Some, 
with  little  easel  and  chair,  were  merely  sketching  a  single 
head  from  a  group  in  some  grand  tableau.  Others,  with  huge 
framework,  and  mounted  up  many  feet  from  the  floor,  were 
making  full  copies  of  some  great  painting.  Students  were 
sketching  in  crayon,  upon  crayon  paper,  portions  of  designs 
from  some  favorite  artist.  Ladies  were  making  cabinet  copies 
of  paintings,  and  others  copying  celebrated  heads  upon  tab- 
lets of  the  size  of  miniatures ;  and  one  artist  I  observed 
putting  a  copy  of  a  group  upon  a  handsome  vase  that  was 
before  him.  Nearly  every  one  of  the  most  noted  paintings  by 
great  masters  had  two  or  three  artists  near  it,  making  copies. 

The  Grand  Gallery,  as  it  is  called,  is  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
long,  and  over  forty  feet  wide,  and  with  its  elegantly  orna- 
mented ceilings,  its  magnificent  collection  of  nearly  two 
thousand  splendid  jointings,  including  some  of  the  finest 
masterpieces  in  the  world,  and  superb  vista,  presents  a  coup 
cTozil  that  can  hardly  fail  to  excite  enthusiasm  even  from  those 
who  are  not  professed  admirers  of  pictures. 

Think  of  the  lux  lry  of  seeing  the  original  works  of  Raphael, 
Rembrandt,  Titian,  Rubens,  Claude  Lorraine,  Holbein,  Paul 


GALLERY    OF   MASTERPIECES.  2G7 

Veronese,  Guido,  Quintin  Matsys,  Murillo,  Teniers,  Ostadc, 
Wouverman,  Vandyke,  David,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  Vernet, 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Poussin,  Albert  Diirer,  &c,  besides  those 
of  other  celebrated  artists,  all  in  one  gallery !  And  it  is  not  a 
meagre  representation  of  them  either,  for  the  Louvre  is  rich 
in  works  from  each  of  these  great  artists.  There  was  Paul 
Veronese's  great  picture  of  the  Repast  in  the  House  of  Simon 
the  Pharisee,  thirty-one  feet  long  and  fifteen  high,  and  his 
Marriage  at  Cana,  a  magnificent  tableau,  thirty-two  feet  long 
and  twenty-one  high,  the  figures  splendid  portraits  of  cele- 
brated persons ;  Titian's  Entombment  of  Christ ;  Raphael's 
beautiful  picture  of  the  Virgin  and  Child ;  Murillo's  Concep- 
tion of  the  Virgin,  which  cost  twenty-four  thousand  six  hun- 
dred pounds ;  Landscape  by  Claude  Lorraine ;  a  whole  gal- 
lery of  Rubens,  and  another  of  Joseph  Vemet's  Seaports ; 
then  there  is  the  Museum  of  Design,  of  fourteen  rooms  full 
of  designs,  over  thirty  thousand  in  number,  of  the  great  mas- 
ters in  all  schools  of  art.  Here  one  may  look  on  the  original 
sketches,  in  pencil  and  India  ink,  of  Rembrandt,  Holbein, 
Diirer,  Poussin,  and  other  great  artists. 

It  would  be  but  a  sort  of  guide-book  review  to  enumerate 
the  different  halls  and  their  wonders,  such  as  one  that  is  de- 
voted entirely  to  antique  terra  cottas,  another  to  jewelry  and 
ornaments  of  the  medizeval  and  renaissance  period,  another  to 
specimens  of  Venetian  glass  ware,  of  exquisite  designs  and 
workmanship,  another  to  bronzes,  &c.  The  Museum  of  Sov- 
ereigns was  interesting  in  historical  relics ;  for  it  was  some- 
thing, remember,  to  have  looked  Tipon  the  sceptre,  sword,  and 
spurs  of  Charlemagne,  the  arm-chair  of  King  Dagobert,  the 
alcove  in  the  room  where  Henry  IV.  ("  King  Henry  of  Na- 
varre ")  used  to  sleep ;  Marie  Antoinette's  shoe,  her  cabinet 
and  casket ;  Henry  II.'s  armor,  and  the  very  helmet  through 
which  the  lance  of  Montgomeri  went  that  killed  him  in  the 
tournament  in  1559;  Charles  IX.'s  helmet  and  shield,  the 
coronation  robes  of  Charles  X.,  and  a  host  of  other  relics  that 
have  figured  in  French  history. 

One  room  is  devoted  to  relics  of  Napoleon  I.,  and  is  called 


268  RELICS    OF   NAPOLEON   I. 

the  Hall  of  the  Emperor.  Here  you  may  look  upon  the  very 
uniform  that  he  wore  on  the  bloody  field  of  Marengo,  a 
locket  containing  his  hair,  the  flag  of  the  Old  Guard,  that  he 
kissed  when  he  bade  adieu  at  Fontainebleau,  the  veritable 
gray  overcoat  which  he  wore,  and  the  historical  cocked  hat 
which  distinguished  him,  the  cockade  worn  when  he  landed 
from  Elba,  the  great  coronation  robes  worn  when  he  was 
crowned  emperor,  his  sword,  riding  whip,  and  saddle,  the 
pocket-handkerchief  used  by  him  on  his  death-bed,  articles 
of  clothing,  &c.  The  cases  containing  these  articles  were 
thronged,  and  the  curious  French  crowd  looked  upon  them 
with  a  sort  of  veneration,  and  occasional  exclamations  of  won- 
derment or  sympathy,  as  some  descriptive  inscription  was 
read  and  explained  to  an  unlettered  visitor  by  his  more  fortu- 
nate companion. 

But  suffice  it  to  say  that  the  Louvre,  with  its  superb  collec- 
tions, and  its  almost  endless  "  Salles  de  — "  everything,  is 
overwhelming  in  the  impression  it  gives  as  a  wealth  of  art. 
It  is  impossible  to  convey  a  correct  idea  of  it  to  the  lover  of 
art,  or  even  the  longing  lover  of  travel  who  has  Europe  in 
prospect.  In  the  words  of  the  modern  advertisers,  it  must  be 
seen  to  be  appreciated,  and  will  require  a  great  many  visits  to 
see  enough  of  it  to  properly  appreciate  it. 

Right  opposite  the  Louvre,  across  a  square,  is  the  Palais 
Royal,  attractive  to  all  Americans  and  English  from  the 
restaurants,  and  jewelry,  and  bijouterie  shops,  which  are  on 
the  ground  floor,  and  form  the  continuous  arcade-  or  four  sides 
of  the  square  of  the  garden  which  they  enclose.  This  garden 
is  about  a  thousand  feet  long  and  four  hundred  wide,  with 
trees,  flowers,  and  fountain,  and  a  band  plays  in  the  afternoon 
to  the  entertainment  of  the  crowd  of  loungers  who  have  dined 
at  the  Trois  Freres,  Vefour,  or  Rotonde,  lounge  in  chairs,  and 
sip  cafe,  noir,  or  absinthe,  if  Frenchmen,  or  smoke  cigars  and 
drink  wine,  if  Americans.  The  restaurants  here  and  in  the 
vicinity  are  excellent ;  but  one  wants  a  thorough  experience, 
or  an  expert  to  teach  him  how  to  dine  at  a  French  restaurant ; 
otherwise  he  may  pay  twice  as  much  as  he  need  to  have  done, 


PALAIS   ROYAL   JEWELRY.  269 

and  then  not  get  what  he  desired.  Fresh  arrivals,  English 
and  Americans,  are  rich  game  for  the  restaurants.  They 
know  not  all  the  dodges  by  which  the  Frenchman  gets  four 
or  five  excellent  courses  for  almost  half  what  it  costs  the  unin- 
itiated, such  as  ordering  a  four-franc  dinner,  with  a  privilege 
of  ordering  so  many  dishes  of  meat,  so  many  of  vegetables, 
or  one  of  meat  for  two  of  the  latter,  or  the  ordering  of  one 
"  portion "  for  two  persons,  &c.  And  I  do  not  know  as  my 
countrymen  would  always  practise  them  if  they  did ;  for  being 
accustomed  at  home  to  order  more  than  they  want  at  a  res- 
taurant, and  to  make  the  restaurant-keeper  a  free  gift  of  what 
they  do  not  use,  they  are  rather  apt,  in  Paris,  to  "  darn  the 
expense,"  and  order  what  suits  their  palates,  without  investi- 
gating the  cost  till  they  call  for  the  garcon  with  "  VadditionP 

The  jewelry  shops  in  the  arcade  around  the  Palais  Royal 
Garden  are  of  two  kinds  —  those  for  the  sale  of  real  jewelry 
and  rich  fancy  goods,  and  those  selling  the  imitation.  These 
latter  are  compelled  by  law  to  keep  a  sign  conspicuously  dis- 
played, announcing  the  fact  that  their  wares  arc  imitation, 
and  any  one  found  selling  imitation  for  real  is,  I  understand, 
severely  punished.  The  imitation  jewelry  stores  are  very  at- 
tractive, and  it  is  really  quite  remarkable  to  what  perfection 
the  art  is  carried.  Imitation  of  diamonds,  made  from  polished 
rock-crystal,  which  will  retain  their  brilliancy  for  some  months, 
mock  coral,  painted  sets,  imitation  gold  bracelets,  chains,  neck- 
laces, sleeve-buttons,  and  earrings,  of  every  conceivable  de- 
sign, very  prettily  made. 

The  designs  of  this  cheap  jewelry  are  fully  equal  to  that  of 
the  more  costly  kind,  and  it  is  retailed  here  in  large  quantities 
at  a  far  more  reasonable  price,  in  pi-oportion  to  its  cost,  than 
is  the  Attleboro'  jewelry  in  our  own  country.  The  arcade 
used  to  be  thronged  with  Americans,  who  purchased  generally 
from  a  handful  to  a  half  peck  each  of  the  attractive  and  pret- 
ty articles  which  are  so  liberally  displayed  here. 

The  French  shopkeepers  are  quick  to  detect  a  stranger  or 
foreigner,  and  very  many  of  them  regulate  their  prices  accord- 
ingly ;  so  that  one  soon  ascertains  that  it  is  not  labor  in  vain 


270  A   FRENCH   FUNERAL. 

to  urge  a  reduction  in  price,  even  in  establishments  where 
huge  placards  of  "  Prix  Fixe "  inform  you  that  they  have  a 
fixed  price  for  their  goods,  which  may  mean,  however,  that  it 
is  "  fixed "  according  to  the  customer  and  his  anxiety  to  pur- 
chase. I  myself  had  an  experience  in  the  purchase  of  a  pair 
of  ornaments.  Inquiring  the  price,  I  was  informed,  "  Eight 
francs." 

"  Ah,  indeed !     That  is  more  than  I  care  to  pay." 

"  For  what  price  does  monsieur  expect  to  obtain  such  beau- 
tiful articles  ?  " 

"Six  francs." 

"  C'est  impossible ! "  (shrugging  his  shoulders  and  elevating 
his  eyebroics);  "ici  le  prix  est  fixe;"  but  monsieur  should 
have  them  for  seven  francs,  as  they  had  been  taken  from  the 
show-case. 

Monsieur  was  indifferent ;  he  "  remercier'd  "  the  shopkeeper; 
he  did  not  care  to  pay  but  six  francs;  and  walked  towards  the 
door ;  but  the  salesman  followed  him,  and,  as  he  reached  the 
threshold,  presented  monsieur  the  articles  in  question,  neatly 
enveloped  in  one  of  his  tissue  paper  shop-bills.  It  was  posi- 
tively too  cheap,  but  "  pour  obliger  monsieur,"  he  would  give 
him  this  "  bon  marche  "  for  the  six  francs. 

We  paid  the  six  francs  accordingly;  but  our  satisfaction 
respecting  the  "bon  marche"  was  somewhat  dampened  at 
seeing  the  very  self-same  description  of  articles  we  had  just 
purchased  at  six  francs  a  pair  displayed  in  a  window,  scarcely 
half  a  dozen  stores  distant,  ticketed,  in  plain  figures,  three 
francs  a  pair. 

Passing  along  through  one  of  the  busiest  streets  of  Paris 
one  day,  we  observed  the  entrance  or  passage  from  the  street 
to  the  lower  story  of  one  of  the  houses  hung  with  black  and 
decorated  with  funeral  trappings ;  in  fact,  the  interior  ar- 
ranged as  a  sort  of  little  apartment,  in  the  midst  of  which, 
exposed  to  full  view  to  all  passers  by,  stood  a  coffin,  sur- 
rounded by  candles,  with  crucifix  at  its  head,  and  all  the 
usual  sombre  emblems  of  mourning ;  '  pedestrians,  as  they 
passed,  respectfully  uncovered,  and  such  exposition,  we  were 


A   POPULAR   ERROR.  271 

told,  is  one  of  the  customs  in  France  when  death  occurs  in  a 
family.  Funerals  often  take  place  at  night,  although  we  have 
met  the  funeral  train  during  the  day,  when  all  who  meet  it, 
or  whom  it  passes,  remove  their  hats  —  a  mark  of  respect 
which  it  is  pleasant  to  ohserve,  and  which  the  newly-arrived 
tourist  makes  haste  to  record  as  one  of  the  evidences  of 
French  breeding  and  politeness. 

When  I  was  a  boy,  and  studied  first  books  of  history  and 
geography,  there  was  in  one  of  them  a  picture  in  which  a 
Frenchman  was  represented  as  taking  off  his  hat  and  making 
a  ceremonious  bow  to  a  lady ;  underneath,  as  part  of  the  pleas- 
ing fable  in  which  the  youth  were  then,  and  may  be,  in 
many  cases,  to  this  day  are  instructed,  was  printed  that  the 
French  were  the  most  polite  people  in  the  world.  If  courtly 
speech,  factitious  conventionalities,  and  certain  external  forms 
constitute  politeness,  then  the  French  are  the  most  polite 
people ;  but  if  politeness  embraces  in  its  true  definition,  as 
I  hold  that  it  does,  spontaneous  unselfishness,  refined  gen- 
erosity, carrying  kindliness  into  common  acts,  unselfishness 
into  daily  life,  and  a  willingness  to  make  some  self-sacrifice 
for  others,  making  itself  felt  more  than  seen  —  then  there 
never  was  a  more  monstrous  humbug  than  French  "polite- 
ness." It  is  nothing  more  than  a  certain  set  of  hypocritical 
forms,  the  thin,  deceptive  varnish  which  is  substituted  for  the 
clear,  solid  crystal  of  hearty  honesty. 

The  Frenchman  will  raise  his  hat  at  a  funeral,  will  "  mille 
j^ardons,  monsieur,"  if  he  accidentally  jostles  your  elbow,  bow 
gracefully  to  the  dame  du  comptoir  as  he  leaves  a  restaurant ; 
do  these  and  a  thousand  graceful  and  pretty  things  that  tend 
to  exhibit  himself,  and,  that  cost  nothing ;  but  how  seldom  does 
he  perform  an  act  that  calls  for  the  slightest  self-sacrifice !  He 
never  surrenders  a  good  place  that  he  holds  for  an  inferior 
one  to  a  lady,  an  aged  person,  or  a  stranger ;  but  he  will,  if 
possible,  by  some  petty  trick  at  an  exhibition,  a  review,  or 
public  display,  endeavor  to  obtain  it  from  them  for  himself. 
The  excess  of  civility  shown  by  the  cringing  and  bowing 
shopman,  with  vertebras  as  supple  as  if  oiled  or  supplied  with 


272  MORTUARY   EMBLEMS. 

patent  hinges  in  the  middle,  he  expects  to  put  into  the  price 
of  the  goods  when  he  cheats  you  in  your  purchases.  Attend- 
ance in  sickness,  and  service  at  your  hotel,  are  measured  by 
the  francs'  worth,  till  at  last,  understanding  the  hollowness 
of  French  politeness,  its  hypocrisy  and  artificial  nature,  you 
long  for  less  ceremony  and  more  heart,  and  feel  that  there  is 
much  of  the  former,  and  little,  if  any,  of  the  latter,  in  the 
Frenchman's  code. 

Speaking  of  funerals  naturally  inclined  us  to  turn  our  steps 
towards  the  celebrated  cemetery  of  Pere  Lachaise,  which  has 
suggested  many  of  the  rural  cemeteries  in  our  own  country 
that  in  natural  attractions  now  so  far  surpass  it ;  but  Pere 
Lachaise  cemetery,  which  was  formerly  an  old  Jesuit  strong- 
bold,  was  first  laid  out  in  1804,  and  now  it  is  the  largest 
burial-ground  of  Paris.  It  contains  over  twenty  thousand 
tombs,  besides  innumerable  graves,  and  occupies  two  hundred 
and  twelve  acres  of  undulating  ground.  Some  of  the  older 
parts  of  it  present  a  rusty  and  ill-kept  appearance.  Before 
reaching  the  entrance  gate,  we  had  indications  of  its  proximity 
from  the  long  street  through  which  we  passed  being  almost 
entirely  filled  on  both  sides  with  the  workshops  of  marble 
and  stone  cutters,  and  funeral  wreath  manufacturers.  Monu- 
ments of  every  conceivable  design,  size,  and  expense  were 
displayed,  from  the  elegant  and  elaborate  group  of  statuary 
to  the  simple  slab  or  the  little  one-franc  plaster  Agnus  Dei, 
to  mark  the  grave  of  the  poor  man's  infant.  There  were 
quantities  of  shops  for  the  sale  of  wreaths  of  immortelles, 
bouquets,  and  other  decorations  for  graves,  and  scores  of  men 
and  girls  at  work  fashioning  them  into  various  designs,  with 
mottoes  varied  for  all  degrees  of  grief,  and  for  every  relation. 
These  are  the  touching  ones :  "  To  My  Dear  Mother,"  "  My 
Dear  Father,"  "My  Sweet  Infant,"  "To  My  Dear  Sister;" 
and  the  friendly  ones,  "  To  My  Uncle,"  "  My  Aunt,"  "  My 
Friend;"  or  the  sentimental  ones,  " Mon  Cher  Felix,"  "Ma 
Chere  Marie,"  "Alphonsine,"  "Pierre,"  &c. ;  besides  bouquets 
of  natural  flowers,  and  vases  for  their  reception,  of  every  style, 
and  graduated  for  every  degree  of  grief  and  the  limit  of  every 


PERK    LACHAISE.  273 

purse;  and  yea  ai-e  beset  by  children  offering  pretty  little 
bunches  of  violets  or  bouquets  and  wreaths  of  natural  flowers. 
Arrived  at  the  gate,  we  were  furnished  with  a  guide,  whom 
it  is  quite  necessary  to  have,  to  save  time  in  traversing  the 
cemetery,  and  direct  one  to  the' monuments  that  one  most 
wants  to  see  of  celebrated  persons. 

Our  guide  was  a  retired  old  soldier,  slightly  lame,  and  still 
preserving  a  sort  of  military  gait,  as  he  stumped  along  in 
front  of  us ;  but  the  combined  perfume  of  the  pipe  he  had 
learned  to  smoke  Avhile  campaigning,  and  the  garlic  lie  loved 
to  eat  at  home,  caused  him  to  be  a  companion  that  one  would 
prefer  occupying  the  windward  side  of. 

The  older  part  of  the  cemetery  of  Pere  Lachaise  is  very 
much  crowded ;  the  tombs  or  vaults  in  some  avenues  stand 
as  close  together,  comparatively,  as  the  doors  of  blocks  of 
houses  in  a  city  thoroughfare.  Many  of  these  vaults,  facing 
the  avenues,  have  open  fronts,  guarded  only  by  a  light,  iron 
latticed  gate,  through  which  the  visitor  may  look  into  a  little 
square  chapel,  reached  by  a  descent  of  three  or  four  steps  ;  in 
this  little  chapel-vault  stands  a  little  altar,  or  shelf,  on  which 
is  placed  cross,  wreaths,  and  vase  or  vases  of  flowers,  this-, 
being  the  place  of  offering  or  prayer  for  the  relatives,  the  in- 
terment being  made  below  the  slab  in  the  floor  or  side. 

These  vault  chapels  are  more  or  less  pretentious,  according 
to  the  wealth  of  the  proprietors,  some  being  fifteen  or  twenty 
feet  square,  with  marble  sides,  flooring,  and  sculpture,,  beau- 
tiful altar,  candles,  vases,  and  handsome  prie  dieu,  while  the 
names  cut  into  the  carved  panels  indicated  what  members 
of  the  family  have  been  placed  behind  them  in  the  narrow 
chamber  for  their  last  sleep.  Garlands,  wreaths,  and  me- 
mentos are  in  every  direction  —  within,  about,  and  upon  the 
graves  and  tombs ;  and  in  one  department,  where  children 
were  buried,  upon  the  little  graves,  beneath  small  glass  cases, 
rested  some  of  the  little  toys — the  dolls,  and  wooden  soldiers, 
and  little  rattles  —  that  had  belonged  to  them  when  living. 
We  found,  as  we  advanced,  how  much  a  guide  was  needed, 
for  we  should  never  have  been  able  to  have  threaded  unaided 
18 


274  MILLIONS   IN   MARBLE. 

the  labyrinths  or  the  winding  cypress-shaded  paths  of  this 
crowded  city  of  the  dead. 

There  were,  we  were  informed,  over  eighteen  thousand 
different  monuments  in  the  cemetery,  ranging  from  the  simple 
cross  or  slab  to  the  costly  mausoleum,  such  as  is  raised  over 
the  Countess  Demidoff,  —  the  most  expensive  and  elaborate 
monument  in  the  grounds,  —  which  is  reached  by  elegant 
flights  of  steps,  and  consists  of  a  broad  platform,  supported 
by  ten  splendid  white  marble  Doric  columns,  upon  which 
rests  a  sarcophagus,  bearing  a  sculptured  cushion,  with  the 
arms  and  cornet  of  the  deceased  resting  thereon.  This  mon- 
ument stands  upon  the  brow  of  a  hill,  and  occupies  one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  positions  in  the  cemetery.  But  let  us  follow 
our  guide,  taking  a  glance  at  a  few  of  the  notable  features  of 
the  place ;  for  that  is  all  one  can  do  in  a  single  visit  and  in  the 
three  hours'  stroll  which  we  make  throusrh  the  most  attrac- 
tive  parts. 

You  can  hardly  walk  a  dozen  stej)S  without  encountering 
tombs  bearing  names  familiar  and  celebrated  in  military, 
scientific,  religious,  or  literary  history ;  and  the  opportunity 
one  has  to  study  the  taste  in  monuments,  obelisks,  urns, 
mausoleums,  pyramids,  and  sarcophagi,  may  be  inferred  from 
the  fact,  that  upon  these  tributes  to  departed  worth,  and  me- 
mentos of  loved  ones,  no  less  than  five  millions  sterling,  or 
about  twenty-five  million  dollars  in  gold,  have  been  expended 
since  the  cemetery  was  first  oj^ened.  The  paths  and  walks 
of  the  old  portion  of  Pere  Lachaise  are  rough,  and  in  sad 
contrast  with  the  newer  part,  and  suffer  much  in  comparison 
with  the  broad,  spacious,  well-rolled  avenues  of  our  own 
Mount  Auburn  and  Forest  Hills,  or  the  natural  and  artificial 
beauties  of  Greenwood  Cemetery. 

We  first  took  a  glance  at  the  Jewish  division  of  the 
grounds,  which  is  separated  from  the  rest  by  a  wall,  where 
the  monument  of  Rachel,  the  celebrated  actress,  was  pointed 
out  to  us,  and  also  those  bearing  the  name  of  Rothschild  and 
Fould.  We  then  walked  to  that  most  interesting  monument, 
generally  the  first  one  of  any  note  visited  by  tourists,  an 


MILITARY    CHIEFTAINS.  275 

actual  evidence  and  memento  of  the  truth  of  that  sad  and 
romantic  history  which  is  embalmed  in  the  memory  of  youth, 
the  monument  of  Abelard  and  Heloise.  This  is  a  little  open 
Gothic  chapel,  in  which  is  the  sarcophagus  of  Abelard,  and 
upon  it  rests  his  effigy,  and  by  his  side  that  of  Heloise. 

The  monument  is  built  from  the  ruins  of  Paraclete  Abbey, 
of  which  Heloise  was  abbess,  and  its  sculptured  figures  and 
decorations  are  very  beautiful,  although  suffering  from  decay 
and  neglect.  A  bunch  or  two  of  fresh  violets  and  forget-me- 
nots,  which  we  saw  lying  upon  the  breast  of  the  recumbent 
figure,  showed  that  sentimental  visitors  still  paid  tribute  to 
this  shrine  of  disappointed  love. 

As  we  advanced  farther  into  the  grounds,  monuments  bear- 
ing well-known  names,  distinguished  in  science,  literature,  and 
art,  met  the  eye  on  every  side.  Here  is  that  of  Arago,  the 
astronomer ;  Talma,  the  great  actor  of  Napoleon's  time ;  Ber- 
nardin  de  St.  Pierre,  the  author  of  Paul  and  Virginia;  David, 
the  celebrated  painter;  Pradier,  the  great  sculptor;  Chopin,  the 
musician;  Scribe,  the  dramatist;  Racine,  the  poet;  Laplace,  the 
astronomer ;  and  Lafitte,  the  banker.  Then  we  come  to  the 
names  of  some  of  those  military  chiefs  that  surrounded  the 
great  soldier  of  the  first  empire,  and  helped  him  to  write  the 
name  of  France  in  imperishable  records  upon  the  pages  of 
history. 

Here  rests  Marshal  Kellermann ;  here  rises  a  granite  pyramid 
to  Marshal  Davoust,  who  won  his  laurels  at  Eylau,  Friedland, 
and  Auerstadt,  the  great  cavalry  action  of  Eckmuhl,  and,  ex- 
cept Ney,  who  was  the  most  prominent  in  the  tremendous  bat- 
tle of  Borodino,  and  the  disastrous  retreat  from  Russia ;  here 
Suchet,  who  commenced  his  career  with  Napoleon  at  the 
siege  of  Toulon,  sleeps  beneath  a  white  marble  sarcophagus ; 
Macdonald  and  Lefebvre  are  here ;  and  a  pyramid  of  white 
marble,  bearing  a  bass-relief  portrait,  rises  to  the  memory  of 
General  Massena,  "  a  very  obstinate  man,"  and  "  the  favorite 
child  of  victory"  —  him  whom  Napoleon  once  told,  "You 
yourself  are  equivalent  to  six  thousand  men."  Passing  monu- 
ment   after  monument,   bearing   names   the  birthplaces   of 


276  THE  BKAVEST  OE  THE  BRAVE. 

whose  titles  were  victorious  battle-fields,  we  were  guided 
by  our  conductor  to  a  little  square  plat  of  ground  enclosed 
by  a  light  railing ;  it  was  gay  with  many-hued  flowers  in  full 
bloom,  filling  the  air  with  their  fragrance.  The  old  guide 
stopped,  and  reverently  taking  off  his  cap,  turned  to  us,  say- 
ing.— 

"  Uommage,  monsieur,  a  le  plus  brave  des  braves  —  a 
Mdrechal  Ney? 

I  involuntarily  followed  his  example.  "  But  where,"  asked 
I,  looking  about  on  every  side,  "where  is  his  monument?" 

"His  monument,  monsieur,"  said  the  old  fellow,  drawing 
himself  up  as  erect  as  possible,  and  dramatically  placing  his 
hand  ivpon  his  left  breast, —  "his  monument  is  the  memory  of 
his  brave  deeds,  which  will  live  forever  in  the  hearts  of  the 
French  people." 

Such  a  reply,  coming  from  such  a  speaker,  astonished  me ; 
and  1  almost  expected  to  see  the  staff  change  to  a  musket, 
the  tattered  caj)  into  a  high  grenadier  "  bearskin,"  and  the 
old  blouse  into  the  faced  uniform  of  the  Garde  Imperiale  / 
there  was  such  a  flavor  of  Napoleon  Bonaparteism  in  the  re- 
sponse, that  that  of  the  garlic  was  for  the  moment  forgotten, 
and  we  considered  the  reply  increased  the  value  of  the  speak- 
er's services  to  the  extent  of  another  franc. 

I  stood,  afterwards,  opposite  the  spot  where  Marshal  Ney, 
"the  rear  guard  of  the  grand  army"  in  the  retreat  from  Russia, 
the  last  man  who  left  Russian  territory,  "  the  bravest  of  the 
brave,"  was  shot  according  to  decree  on  the  7th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1815.  It  is  a  short  distance  form  the  south  entrance  of 
the  gardens  of  the  Palais  du  Luxembourg,  and  is  marked  by 
a  bronze  statue  of  the  great  marshal,  who  is  represented  in 
the  attitude  of  leading  his  troops,  sword  in  hand,  as  he  did 
at  the  head  of  the  Old  Guard,  after  four  horses  had  been  shot 
under  him,  in  the  last  charge  on  the  disastrous  field  of  Wa- 
terloo. A  marble  pedestal  is  nearly  covered  with  an  enu- 
meration of  the  battles  in  which  he  distinguished  himself. 
He  was  indeed  the  "  hero  of  a  hundred  battles." 

Passing  through  another  path,  we  came  to  the  monument 


TOMB    OF   BONAPARTE.  277 

of  Lafontaine,  surmounted  by  a  life-size  figure  of  a  fox,  sculp- 
tured from  black  marble,  the  sides  of  the  monument  showing 
bronze  bass-reliefs  of  the  fable  of  the  fox  and  stork,  and 
wolf  and  lamb.  Beranger,  the  poet,  sleeps  in  the  same  tomb 
with  Manuel,  a  French  orator;  and  just  before  leaving  the 
cemetery  our  guide  pointed  out  to  us  a  little  cross  over  the 
grave  of  Judith  Frere,  who  figures  in  the  poet's  songs  as 

Lisette. 

"  But  first  Lisette  should  here  before  me  stand, 

So  blithe,  so  lovely,  in  her  fresh-trimmed  bonnet ; 
See,  at  the  narrow  window,  how  her  hand 
Pins  up  her  shawl,  in  place  of  curtain  on  it." 

But  we  might  go  on  with  a  whole  catalogue  of  noted  monu- 
ments seen  in  this  city  of  the  dead,  during  our  three  hours' 
tour  of  it  —  an  excursion  which,  notwithstanding  its  interest, 
was  quite  fatiguing. 

The  magnificent  tomb  of  Napoleon  I.,  at  the  Church  of  the 
Invalides,  contains  the  mortal  remains  of  the  great  Corsican, 
placed  here  with  much  ceremony,  carrying  out  the  desire  ex- 
pressed in  his  will  that  his  ashes  might  rest  uj)on  the  banks  of 
the  Seine,  in  the  midst  of  the  French  people  that  he  had  loved 
so  much.  Through  the  great  cupola  of  the  church  the  light 
is  admitted  by  means  of  colored  glass,  and  so  managed  that 
it  shall  fall  upon  the  high  altar,  the  crypt,  and  sarcophagus 
with  striking  efiect.  The  high  altar  is  at  the  top  of  ten  stejDS 
of  pure  white  marble,  and  is  of  black  marble ;  great  twisted 
columns  of  black  and  white  marble  support  a  canopy  of  white 
and  gold,  beneath  which  is  a  figure  of  the  Saviour  on  the 
cross,  upon  which  the  sunlight,  falling  through  yellow  glass, 
lights  up  the  golden  rays  that  are  represented  as  springing 
from  the  back  of  the  crucifix  into  a  blaze  of  glory,  and  flashes 
and  sparkles  upon  the  gilded  canopy  and  decorations,  as  if 
glorifying  the  sacred  emblems. 

Directly  in  the  centre,  and  beneath  the  dome  of  the  church, 
is  a  great  circular  opening  thirty-six  feet  in  diameter  and 
twenty  feet  in  depth ;  this  is  the  crypt,  and  surrounded  by  a 
marble  rail.     Looking  down,  you  gaze  upon  the  sarcophagus, 


278  GRAND   EFFECTS. 

a  huge  block  of  red  granite  or  porphyry,  weighing  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty-five  thousand  pounds,  most  beautifully  pol- 
ished, brought  from  Finland  at  a  cost  of  thirty  thousand 
dollars,  covering  another  huge  block  twelve  feet  long  by  six 
in  width,  which  in  turn  rests  ivpon  a  splendid  block  of  green 
granite,  the  whole  forming  a  monument  about  fourteen  feet 
high.  The  pavement  of  this  circular  cryj^t  is  a  huge  crown 
of  laurels  in  green  marble  in  a  tessellated  floor  of  white  and 
black  marble;  within  the  laurels  are  inscribed  Marengo, 
Austerlitz,  Jena,  Rivoli,  Wagram,  and  other  great  victories, 
the  whole  pavement  being  a  most  exquisite  piece  of  mosaic 
work ;  around  the  circle  stand  twelve  colossal  statues,  facing 
the  tomb,  representing  victories.  We  descended  to  this  crypt 
by  passing  to  the  rear,  and  beneath  the  high  altar,  where  we 
found  the  entrance  guarded  by  two  huge  caryatides  bearing  im- 
perial emblems ;  passing  the  sarcophagus,  we  come  to  a  chapel 
where  is  the  sword  of  Austerlitz,  groups  of  flags  captured  by 
the  French  in  battle,  and  other  mementos  of  the  emperor. 

The  elegant  finish  of  the  marble-work  in  the  interior  of  the 
Church  of  the  Invalides  strikes  one  with  astonishment ;  its 
joining  is  so  j>erfect  as  to  be  more  like  cabinet-making  than 
masonry ;  the  light  is  so  managed  as  to  fall  into  the  crypt 
through  a  bluish-purple  glass,  and  striking  ujjon  the  polished 
marble,  as  one  looks  down  from  above,  gives  the  crypt  the 
appearance  of  being  filled  with  a  delicate  violet  halo  —  a  novel 
and  indescribable  effect.  The  marble  of  the  monument,  the 
sculpture,  and  decorations  of  the  crypt,  chapel,  &c,  cost  one 
million  eight  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  gold — a  costly 
mausoleum. 

The  interior  of  the  Invalides  is  circular,  with  arms  of  a 
cross  extended  north,  south,  east,  and  west.  The  great  dome 
is  a  splendid  piece  of  architecture,  the  summit  of  which  is 
over  three  hundred  feet  from  the  pavement ;  and  high  up  in 
the  cupola  we  see  a  splendid  picture  representing  our  Saviour 
surrounded  by  saints  and  angels,  which  must  be  colossal  in 
size  to  appear  as  they  do  of  life-size  from  below.  In  chapels, 
in  the  angles  formed  by  the  cross,  are  other  splendid  monu- 


VERSAILLES.  279 

ments  to  distinguished  personages.  In  the  Chapel  of  St. 
Augustin  is  the  tomb  of  Napoleon's  eldest  brother,  Joseph, 
King  of  Spain,  a  huge  sarcophagus  of  black  marble  ;  and  not 
far  from  this  is  that  of  Vauban,  the  greatest  of  military  en- 
gineers, also  a  sarcophagus  of  black  marble,  upon  which  rests 
an  effigy  of  Vauban,  surrounded  by  emblems,  with  two  alle- 
gorical statues  beside  him.  The  monument  of  King  Jerome 
is  in  the  chapel  dedicated  to  St.  Jerome,  and  is  a  hnge  sort  of 
black  marble  casket  on  gilt  claw-feet,  upon  the  top  of  which 
stands  his  statue.  A  monument  to  Marshal  Turenne  repre- 
sents him  dying  in  the  arms  of  some  allegorical  genius,  with 
an  eagle  at  his  feet. 

Each  of  the  chapels  is  dedicated  to  some  saint,  and  richly 
decorated  by  frescoes  representing  scenes  in  his  life;  but 
chapels,  monuments,  and  all,  are,  although  splendid,  of  course 
insignificant  compared  with  that  of  the  emperor,  resting  be- 
neath the  grand  dome  in  the  halo  of  colored  light,  before  the 
grand  altar,  and  around  which  the  twelve  colossi,  with  grasped 
swords  and  victorious  wreaths,  seem  to  be  keeping  solemn 
watch  and  ward  over  the  now  silent  dust  of  him 

"  Whose  greatness  was  no  guard 
To  bar  Heaven's  shaft." 

One  can  easily  imagine  that  Louis  XIV.  nearly  bankrupted 
the  French  nation  in  his  magnificent  expenditures  on  the 
palace  and  parks  of  Versailles,  everything  about  them  is  upon 
such  a  prodigal  and  princely  style.  The  vast  halls  of  paint- 
ings, magnificent  chapels,  theatres,  great  gardens,  statuary, 
hot-houses,  parks,  fountains,  and  artificial  basins,  the  water  to 
supply  which  was  brought  about  four  miles,  the  little  park  of 
twelve  miles  in  extent,  and  great  park  of  forty.  When  the 
visitor  looks  about  him,  he  is  amazed  at  the  prodigal  display 
of  wealth  on  every  side.  He  ceases  to  wonder  that  over  two 
hundred  millions  of  dollars  have  been  expended  upon  this 
great  permanent  French  exposition  and  historical  museum  of 
the  French  nation. 

Passing  through  the  town,  we  entered  the  Place  d'Armes, 


280  INTERIOR  OF  THE  PALACE. 

approaching  the  palace.  This  is  a  great  open  space  eight 
hundred  feet  broad,  from  which  we  enter  the  grand  court,  or 
Cour  d'Honneur,  a  space  about  four  hundred  feet  wide,  lead- 
ing up  to  the  palace  buildings,  which  are  various,  irregular, 
and  splendid  piles,  ornamented  with  pavilions,  plain,  or  dec- 
orated with  Corinthian  columns,  and  statues.  In  the  centre 
of  the  upper  part  of  this  great  court  stands  a  colossal  eques- 
trian statue  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  upon  either  side,  as  the  vis- 
itor walks  up,  he  observes  fine  marble  statues  of  distinguished 
Frenchmen,  such  as  Colbert,  Jourdan,  Massena,  Conde,  Riche- 
lieu, Bayard,  &c.  Entering  the  palace,  which  appears  from 
this  court  a  confused  mass  of  buildings,  one  is  overwhelmed 
with  its  vastness  and  marmificence.  Some  idea  of  the  former 
may  be  obtained  by  passing  through,  and  taking  a  survey  of  the 
western,  or  garden  front,  which  is  one  continuous  pile  of  build- 
ing a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  extent,  elegantly  adorned  with  richly- 
cut  columns,  statues,  and  porticos,  and,  when  viewed  from  the 
park,  with  the  broad,  very  broad  flights  of  marble  steps  leading 
to  it,  adorned  with  vases,  countless  statues,  ornamental  balus- 
trades, &c,  strikingly  reminding  one  of  the  pictorial  representa- 
tions he  has  seen  of  Solomon's  Temple,  or  perhaps  more  strik- 
ingly realizing  what  he  may  have  pictured  in  his  imagination 
to  have  been  the  real  appearance  of  that  wonderful  edifice. 

The  collection  of  pictures  and  statuary  in  the  Historical 
Museum  is  so  overwhelming,  and  the  series  of  rooms  appar- 
ently so  interminable,  that  a  single  visit  is  inadequate  to  do 
more  than  give  the  visitor  a  sort  of  confused  general  idea  of 
the  whole.  Guides,  if  desired,  were  furnished,  who,  at  a 
charge  of  a  franc  an  hour,  will  accompany  a  small  party  of 
visitors,  and  greatly  facilitate  their  progress  in  making  the 
best  use  of  time,  and  in  seeking  out  the  most  celebrated  ob- 
jects of  interest.  Attendants  in  livery  were  stationed  at  dif- 
ferent points  through  the  buildings,  to  direct  visitors  and 
indicate  the  route. 

Here,  in  the  great  Historical  Museum,  are  eleven  spacious 
rooms,  elegantly  decorated,  and  containing  pictures  on  his- 
torical subjects  from  the  time  of  King  Clovis  to  Louis  XVI. 


HALLS    OF    THE    CRUSADES.  281 

Here  is  Charlemagne  dictating  his  Code  of  Laws,  Henry  IV. 
entering  Paris,  the  Siege  of  Lille,  Coronation  of  Louis  XIV., 
and  many  other  immense  tableaux  filled  with  figures,  and  of 
great  detail. 

There  are  the  Halls  of  the  Crusades,  five  magnificent  rooms 
in  Gothic  style,  and  forming  a  gallery  of  paintings  illustrating 
those  periods  of  history,  and,  of  course,  such  events  as  French 
crusaders  were  most  prominent  in.  The  walls  and  ceilings 
are  ornamented  with  armorial  bearings  and  devices  of  French 
crusaders  ;  and  in  the  wall  of  one  of  the  rooms  are  the  Gates 
of  the  Hospital  of  the  Order  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John  of 
Jerusalem,  given  to  Prince  de  Joinville,  by  Sultan  Mahmoud, 
in  1836.  The  great  pictures  of  the  desperate  battles  of  the 
mail-clad  warriors  of  the  cross  and  the  Saracens  are  given 
with  graphic  fidelity,  the  figures  in  the  huge  tableaux  nearly 
or  quite  the  size  of  life,  and  the  hand-to-hand  encounter  of 
sword,  cimeter,  battle-axe,  and  mace,  or  the  desperate  strug- 
gles in  the  "  imminent  deadly  breach,"  the  fierce  escalade,  the 
terrific  charge,  or  the  desperate  assault,  represented  with  a 
force,  vigor,  and  expression  that  almost  make  one's  blood 
tingle  to  look  upon  them.  Here  wTas  a  magnificent  picture 
representing  a  Procession  of  Crusaders  round  Jerusalem,  an- 
other, by  Delacroix,  representing  the  Taking  of  Constanti- 
nople, Lariviere's  Raising  the  Siege  of  Malta,  and  Raising  the 
Siege  of  Rhodes,  the  Battle  of  Ascalon,  Taking  of  Jerusalem, 
Taking  of  Antioch,  Battle  of  Acre ;  also  the  portraits  of 
Jaques  Molay,  Hugh  de  Payens,  De  La  Valette,  and  other 
grand  commanders  of  the  order. 

Another  series  of  elegant  halls,  seven  in  number,  had  some 
magnificent  colossal  pictures  of  modern  battles,  such  as  the 
Battle  of  Alma,  Storming  of  the  Mamelon,  the  Return  of  the 
Army  to  Paris  in  1859,  and  Horace  Vernet's  celebrated  pic- 
ture of  the  Surprise  of  Abdel-Kader's  Encampment,  a  most 
spirited  specimen  of  figure-painting.  Then  came  a  spirited 
picture  of  the  Storming  of  the  MalakofF,  Storming  of  Sebas- 
topol,  Battles  of  Magenta,  &c,  and  several  fine  battle-pieces 
by  Horace  Vernet.     Then  there  are  rooms  with  scenes  in  the 


282  TfiE    GRAND    APARTMENTS. 

campaign  in  Morocco,  whole  galleries  of  statues,  galleries  of 
French  admirals  and  generals,  series  after  series  of  six,  eight, 
or  ten  great  apartments,  each  a  gallery  of  itself. 

The  "  Grand  Apartments,"  as  they  are  called,  occupy  the 
whole  of  the  central  portion  of  the  palace  facing  the  gardens, 
and  appear  more  like  the  creation  of  a  magician,  or  of  the 
genii  of  Aladdin's  lamp,  than  the  work  of  human  hands.  E.lch 
hall  is  given  a  name,  and  distinguished  by  the  superb  frescos 
upon  its  ceiling,  delineating  scenes  in  which  the  deity  for 
which  it  is  called  figures.  The  great  Saloon  of  Hercules  has 
scenes  illustrating  the  deeds  of  Hercules,  delineated  upon  its 
broad  expanse  of  ceiling,  sixty  feet  square  ;  the  Hall  of  Abun- 
dance is  illustrated  with  allegorical  figures,  and  the  Saloon  of 
Venus  is  rich  with  cupids,  roses,  and  the  Goddess  of  Love  ; 
then  there  are  Saloons  of  Mars,  of  Mercury,  of  Apollo,  of  the 
States  General,  all  richly  and  most  gorgeously  decorated; 
but  the  grandest  of  all  is  the  Grand  Gallery  of  Louis  XIV., 
the  most  magnificent  hall  in  the  world,  and  one  which  ex- 
tracts enthusiasm  even  from  the  most  taciturn. 

This  superb  gallery  connects  with  the  Saloon  of  War  and 
Saloon  of  Peace,  and  forms  with  them  one  grand  continuous 
apartment.  It  is-  sometimes  called  the  Gallery  of  Mirrors, 
from  the  great  mirrors  that  line  the  wall  upon  one  side. 
Fancy  a  superb  hall,  two  hundred  and  thirty  feet  long,  thirty- 
five  wide,  and  forty-five  high,  with  huge  arched  windows  on, 
one  side,  and  magnificent  mirrors  on  the  other,  with  Corin- 
thian columns  of  red  marble  at  the  sides,  and  the  great  arched 
ceiling,  the  whole  length  elegantly  painted  with  allegorical 
representations  and  tableaux  of  the  battles  of  France ;  statues, 
carvings,  ornaments,  furniture,  and  decorations  appropriate 
filling  out  the  picture,  the  perspective  view  superb,  and  ti.e 
whole  effect  grand  and  imposing ! 

It  was  here  that  Queen  Victoria  was  received  on  her  visit 
to  Paris  in  1855.  Here,  where,  after  the  London  Times  and 
British  press  had  failed  to  write  down  the  "  prisoner  of  Ham," 
"the  nephew  of  his  uncle,"  "the  ex-policeman,"  after  Punch 
had  ridiculed  in  every  possible  pictorial  burlesque  and  slander 


GALLERY    OP   THE    EMPIRE.  283 

him  whom  that  print  represented  as  a  mere  aspirant  for  the 
hoots  and  cocked  hat  of  his  uncle,  —  it  was  here,  beneath  the 
blaze  of  countless  candles,  to  the  music  of  his  imperial  band, 
and  in  presence  of  the  most  celebrated  personages  of  the 
French  nation,  that  England's  queen  danced  with  —  yes,  actu- 
tually  waltzed  with  —  this  nephew  of  his  uncle. 

Opening  out  of  these  grand  state  apartments  are  various 
others,  which,  although  beautiful  in  decoration,  are  dwarfed 
by  the  splendor  of  the  great  salons,  though  some  are  noted 
for  historical  events,  such  as  Louis  XIV.'s  private  cabinet,  in 
which  are  his  table  and  arm-chair ;  the  room  in  which  Louis 
XV.  died.  We  look  upon  superb  vases,  wonderful  mechanical 
clocks,  staircases  that  are  wonders  of  architecture,  and  chefs 
foeuvre  of  execution  in  carving,  graceful  curve,  and  splendid 
sweep,  till  finally  I  find  myself,  note-book  in  hand,  in  a  splen- 
did room,  gazing  upward  at  a  ceiling  upon  which  is  a  magnifi- 
cent picture,  representing  Jupiter,  and  some  other  gods  and 
allegorical  figures.  It  is  a  work  of  rare  art.  I  refer  to  my 
guide,  and  find  we  are  gazing  up  at  a  picture  by  Paul  Vero- 
nese, representing  Jupiter  punishing  Crime,  brought  from  the 
Hall  of  the  Council  of  Ten,  in  Venice,  by  Napoleon  I.,  and 
that  Ave  are  standing  in  the  bed-chamber  of  Louis  XIV.,  and 
before  the  very  couch,  rich  in  decoration,  and  railed  off  from 
approach  of  the  common  herd,  upon  which  he  —  though  he 
may  have  been  mighty  and  to  be  feared,  may  have  reigned  as 
a  monarch  and  lived  as  a  conqueror  —  yet,  at  last,  died  but  as 

a  man. 

"Dost  thou  lie  so  low? 

Are  all  thy  conquests,  glories,  triumphs,  spoils 
Shrunk  to  this  little  measure  ?  " 

The  great  Gallery  of  the  Empire  consists  of  fourteen  large 
rooms,  and  in  these  are  three  hundred  huge  pictures  of  the 
battles  and  noted  events  that  transpired  during  the  time  of 
Napoleon  L,  from  1796  to  1810  —  a  complete  illustration  of 
the  life  and  times  of  the  great  emperor.  The  views  of  the 
battles  are  very  spirited  and  interesting,  and,  with  those  in 
the  Gallery  of  Battles,  will  be  familiar  to  many  from  the 


284  GALLERY    OP   BATTLES. 

copies  that  have  been  made  of  them,  and  the  numerous  occa- 
sions they  have  done  duty  in  illustrated  hooks.  The  Napo- 
leon Gallery,  a  volume  of  illustrations  published  by  Bohn,  of 
London,  gives  engravings  of  nearly  all  these  beautiful  tab- 
leaux. Here  was  the  Battle  of  Marengo,  Passage  of  the 
Alps,  Horace  Vernet's  Battle  of  Wagram,  and  Battle  of 
Friedland,  and  his  picture  of  Napoleon  addressing  the 
Guards  before  the  battle  of  Jena,  Gerard's  Battle  of  Auster- 
litz,  Battle  of  Rivoli,  —  one  vivid  pictorial  scene  succeeding 
another,  —  Eckmuhl,  Ratisbon,  Essling,  Rivoli,  &c.  This 
Gallery  of  Battles  is  also  a  notable  hall,  being  nearly  four 
hundred  feet  long,  forty-two  feet  wide,  and  forty  feet  in 
height.  The  roof  is  vaulted,  and  lighted  by  skylights,  which 
give  a  good  light  to  the  pictures,  and  the  whole  effect  of  the 
splendid  gallery,  which  is  richly  decorated,  set  forth  by  orna- 
mental columns,  with  busts  of  distinguished  generals  inter- 
spersed at  intervals,  is  very  fine.  In  niches  near  the  win- 
dows there  is  a  sort  of  roll  of  honor  —  lists  of  names  of 
generals  and  admirals  who  have  fallen  in  battle,  inscribed 
upon  tablets  of  black  marble.  I  must  not  forget  the  Hall  of 
the  Coronation,  which  contains  David's  great  painting  of  the 
Coronation  of  Napoleon,  for  which  the  artist  received  the 
sum  of  one  hundred  thousand  francs.  In  this  hall  is  also  the 
Distribution  of  the  Eagles  to  the  Legions,  by  the  same  artist, 
and  the  Battle  of  Aboukir. 

Behind  the  Gallery  of  Battles  extends  another  gallery, 
entirely  devoted  to  statues  and  busts  of  distinguished  per- 
sonages, from  the  year  1500  to  1800.  This  gallery  is  over 
three  hundred  feet  in  length.  But  even  to  attempt  anything 
like  a  description  of  the  numerous  galleries,  halls,  and  apart- 
ments in  this  vast  structure,  would  be  futile  in  the  space  that 
can  be  allowed  in  a  tourist's  sketches,  and  those  that  we 
omit  are  nearly  as  extensive  as  those  already  mentioned. 
There  is  a  gallery  of  the  admirals  of  France  —  fourteen 
rooms  full  of  their  portraits;  a  gallery  of  the  kings  of 
France  —  seventy-one  portraits  —  down  to  Louis  Philippe; 
gallery  of  Louis  XIII. ;  hall  of  the  imperial  family,  with  por- 


THEATRE    IN   A   PALACE.  285 

traits  of  the  Bonaparte  family ;  gallery  of  marine  paintings ; 
a  gallery  of  water  colors,  by  French  staff  officers,  of  scenes 
in  campaigns  from  179G  to  1814;  Marie  Antoinette's  private 
apartments,  in  which  some  of  the  furniture  used  by  her  still 
remains ;  the  cabinets  of  porcelains ;  cabinets  of  medals ; 
saloon  of  clocks;  great  library;  hall  of  the  king's  body 
guards,  &c.  The  celebrated  hall  known  as  OEil  de  Boeuf, 
from  its  great  oval  window  at  one  end,  I  viewed  with  some 
interest,  as  the  hall  where  so  many  courtiers  had  fussed,  and 
fumed,  and  waited  the  king's  coming  —  regular  French  lobby- 
ists of  old  times ;  and  many  a  shrewd  and  deepdaid  political 
scheme  was  concocted  here.  It  is  a  superb  saloon,  and  was 
Louis  XVI.'s  and  Marie  Antoinette's  public  dining-hall. 

All  these  "galleries,''  it  should  be  borne  in  mind,  are 
really  galleries  worthy  the  name  —  vast  in  extent,  elegant  in 
decoration,  and  rich  in  pictures,  busts,  and  statues.  Then 
the  splendid  staircases  by  which  some  of  them  are  reached 
are  wonders  of  art.  The  great  Staircase  of  the  Princes  is  a 
beautiful  piece  of  work,  with  pillars,  sculptured  ceiling,  bass- 
reliefs,  <fcc,  and  adorned  with  marble  statues  of  Bonaparte, 
Louis  XIV.,  and  other  great  men.  So  also  are  the  Marble 
Staircase,  and  the  splendid  Staircase  of  the  Ambassadors.  I 
only  mention  these,  each  in  themselves  a  sight  to  be  seen,  to 
give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  vastness  of  this  palace,  and 
the  wealth  of  art  it  contains. 

Think  of  the  luxuriousness  of  the  monarch  who  provides 
himself  with  a  fine  opera-house  or  theatre,  which  he  may 
visit  at  pleasure,  without  leaving  his  palace  !  Yet  here  it  is, 
a  handsome  theatre,  with  a  stage  seventy-five  feet  deep  and 
sixty  wide,  a  height  of  fifty  feet,  with  its  auditorium,  seventy 
feet  from  curtain  to  boxes,  and  sixty  feet  wide.  It  is  ele- 
gantly decorated  with  Ionic  columns,  crimson  and  gold. 
There  are  three  rows  of  boxes,  with  ornamental  balustrades, 
a  profusion  of  mirrors  and  chandeliers,  and  the  ceiling  ele- 
gantly ornamented.  The  royal  box  occupies  the  centre  of 
the  middle  row  of  boxes,  and  is  richly  decorated.  On  the 
occasion  of  the  visit  of  Queen  Victoria  to  Louis  Napoleon, 


286  GARDENS    AT    VERSAILLES. 

this  theatre  was  used  as  the  supper-room,  the  pit  being 
boarded  over,  and  four  hundred  illustrious  guests  sat  down 
to  a  splendid  banquet. 

Not  only  have  the  means  of  amusement  been  thus  pro- 
vided, but  we  find  in  this  wonderful  palace  the  royal  chapel 
for  royal  worship  of  Him  before  whom  all  monarchs  are  as 
dust  in  the  balance  —  a  beautiful  interior,  one  hundred  and 
fourteen  feet  long  by  sixty  wide,  with  nave,  aisles,  side  gal- 
leries, and  Corinthian  columns,  and  its  elegant  ceiling,  which 
is  eighty-six  feet  from  the  richly-inlaid  mosaic  pavement,  cov- 
ered with  handsome  paintings  of  sacred  subjects  by  great 
artists.  The  high  altar  is  magnificent,  the  organ  one  of  the 
finest  in  France,  and  the  side  aisles  contain  seven  elegant 
chapels,  dedicated  to  as  many  saints,  their  altars  rich  in 
beautiful  marbles,  sculptures,  bass-reliefs,  and  pictures  — 
among  the  latter,  a  Last  Supper,  by  Paul  Veronese,  the 
whole  forming  a  superb  chapel,  glowing  with  beauty  and  art. 
In  this  chapel  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette  were  mar- 
ried in  1770. 

Verily  one  gets  a  surfeit  of  splendor  in  passing  through 
this  vast  historic  pile  of  buildings.  The  limbs  are  weary, 
while  the  eyes  ache  from  the  gazing  at  pictures,  statues,  per- 
spectives, and  frescos,  and  it  is  a  relief  to  go  forth  into  the 
grand  park  and  gardens,  where  fresh  wonders  await  the  vis- 
itor. Descending  from  the  broad  and  spacious  terrace, 
adorned  by  statues  and  vases,  by  flights  of  marble  steps,  the 
spectator  is  bewildered  by  the  number  and  beauty  of  the 
fountains,  statues,  &c,  that  he  encounters  on  every  side ;  but 
the  very  terrace  itself  is  a  wonder.  Here  are  great  bronze 
statues  of  Apollo,  Bacchus,  and  other  heathen  gods.  Two 
broad  squares  of  water,  surrounded  by  twenty-four  splendid 
groups,  in  bronze,  of  nymphs  and  children,  are  in  the  midst 
of  vast  grass  plots  and  walks,  and  among  the  statues  we 
notice  one  of  Napoleon  I.  From  this  broad  terrace  you 
descend  to  the  gardens  below,  and  other  parts  of  the  ground, 
by  magnificent  flights  of  broad  steps.  In  the  orangery  or 
hot-house,  orange  trees,  pomegranates,  and  a  variety  of  curi- 


FOUNTAINS    AT    VEKSAILLES.  287 

ous  plants  are  kept,  many  of  which  are  transplanted  about 
the  grounds  during  the  summer  season.  One  old  veteran  of 
an  orange  tree,  hooped  with  iron  to  preserve  it,  is  shown, 
which  is  said  to  be  over  four  hundred  and  thirty  years  old. 
The  guide-books  say  it  was  planted  by  the  wife  of  Charles  III., 
King  of  Navarre,  in  1421.  Many  other  old  trees  of  a  hun- 
dred years  of  age  are  in  the  gardens. 

One  m-eat  feature  of  the  gardens  at  Versailles  is  the  beauti- 
ful  fountains.  The  principal  one  is  that  known  as  the  Basin 
of  Neptune,  which  is  a  huge  basin,  surrounded  by  colossal 
figures  of  Neptune,  Amphitrite,  nymphs,  tritons,  and  sea 
monsters,  that  spout  jets-d'eau  into  it.  The  Basin  of  Latona 
is  a  beautiful  affair,  consisting  of  five  circular  basins,  rising 
one  above  another,  surmounted  by  a  group  of  Latona,  Apollo, 
and  Diana.  All  around  the  basins,  upon  slabs  of  marble,  are 
huge  frogs  and  tortoises,  representing  the  metamorphosed 
peasants  of  Libya,  who  are  supplying  the  goddess  with  water 
in  liberal  streams,  which  they  spout  in  arching  jets  towards 
her.  Then  there  is  the  great  Basin  of  Apollo,  with  the  god 
driving  a  chariot,  surrounded  by  sea-gods  and  monsters,  who 
are  all  doing  spouting  duty ;  the  Basin  of  Spring  and  Sum- 
mer ;  Basin  of  the  Dragon,  where  a  huge  lead  representation 
of  that  monster  is  solemnly  spouting  in  great  streams  from 
his  mouth  when  the  water  is  turned  on.  The  Baths  of 
Apollo  is  a  grotto,  in  which  the  god  is  represented  served  by 
nymphs  —  seven  graceful  figures ;  while  near  him  are  the 
horses  of  the  Sun,  being  watered  by  Tritons,  all  superbly  exe- 
cuted in  marble.  Sheets  and  jets  of  water  issue  from  every 
direction  in  this  beautiful  grotto,  and  form  a  lake  at  the  foot 
of  the  rocks.  This  grotto  is  a  very  elaborate  piece  of  work, 
and  is  said  to  have  cost  a  million  and  a  half  of  francs. 

Besides  these  beautiful  and  elaborate  fountains  are  many 
others  of  lesser  note,  but  still  of  beautiful  design,  at  different 
points  in  the  gardens  and  park.  Parterres  of  beautiful 
flowers  charm  the  eye,  the  elegant  groves  tempt  the  j^edes- 
trian,  and  greensward,  of  thick  and  velvety  texture  and  em- 
erald hue,  stretches  itself  out  like  an  artificial  carpet.     Here 


288  GREAT   AND    LITTLE    TRIANON. 

is  one  that  stretches  the  whole  length  between  two  of  the 
great  fountains,  Latona  and  Apollo,  and  called  the  Green 
Carpet  —  one  sheet  of  vivid  gi-een,  set  out  with  statues  and 
marble  vases  along  the  walks  that  pass  beside  it;  another 
beautiful  one,  of  circular  form,  is  called  the  Round  Green.  Here 
are  beautiful  gravel  walks,  artificial  groves  with  charming 
alleys,  thickets,  green  banks,  and,  in  fact,  a  wealth  of  land- 
scape gardening,  in  which  art  is  often  made  to  so  closely 
imitate  nature,  that  it  is  difficult  to  determine  where  the  one 
ceases  and  the  other  begins. 

A  visit  to  the  Great  and  Little  Trianon  is  generally  the 
wind-up  of  the  visit  to  the  parks  of  Versailles :  the  former, 
\t  will  be  recollected,  was  the  villa  built  in  the  park  by  Louis 
XIV.  for  Madame  de  Maintenon.  It  contains  many  elegant 
apartments.  Among  those  which  most  attracted  our  atten- 
tion was  the  Hall  of  Malachite,  and  the  Palace  Gallery,  the 
latter  a  hall  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  long,  ornamented 
with  portraits,  costly  mosaic  tables,  and  bronzes.  Notwith- 
standing the  eye  has  been  sated  with  luxury  in  the  palace,  the 
visitor  cannot  but  see  that  wealth  has  been  poured  out  with 
a  lavish  hand  on  this  villa ;  its  beautiful  saloons,  —  Saloon  of 
Music,  Saloon  of  the  Queen,  Saloon  of  Mirrors,  —  its  chapel 
and  gardens,  are  all  those  befitting  a  royal  palace ;  for  such 
indeed  it  was  to  Louis  XIV.,  XV.,  and  XVI.,  and  even  Na- 
poleon, who,  at  different  times,  made  it  their  residence. 

The  Little  Trianon,  built  by  Louis  XV.  for  Madame  Du 
Barry,  is  a  small,  two-story  villa,  with  a  handsome  garden 
attached,  at  which  I  only  took  a  hasty  glance,  and  concluded  by 
omitting  to  inspect  the  Museum  of  State  Carriages,  —  where, 
I  was  told,  Bonaparte's,  Charles  X.'s,  and  others  were  kept, — 
the  sedan  chair  of  Marie  Antoinette,  and  various  curious 
harnesses.  I  was  assured  by  another  tourist,  who  learned  a 
few  days  after  that  I  had  not  seen  it,  that  it  was  the  finest 
thing  in  the  whole  palace.  I  have  frequently  found  this  to  be 
the  judgment  of  many  travellers,  of  objects  or  points  they 
have  "  done,"  which  you  have  missed  or  omitted,  and  so  I  en- 
dured the  loss  of  this  sight  with  resignation. 


NOTRE    DAME.  289 

But  wc  find  that  an  attempt  to  give  anything  like  a  full  de- 
scription of  all  wc  saw  in  Paris,  —  even  those  leading  "lions" 
that  all  tourists  describe,  —  would  make  us  tarry  in  that  gay 
capital  too  long  for  the  patience  of  our  readers  who  have  fol- 
lowed us  "  over  the  ocean  "  thus  far.  The  lover  of  travel,  of 
variety,  of  architecture,  of  fashion,  frivolity,  or  excitement  may 
enjoy  himself  in  Paris  to  the  extent  of  his  desire.  There  is 
plenty  to  occupy  the  attention  of  all  who  wish  to  enjoy  them- 
selves, in  a  rational  and  profitable  manner,  in  the  mere  seeing 
of  sights  that  every  one  ought  to  see.  There  is  the  grand 
old  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame,  lamed  in  history  and  story, 
which  has  experienced  rough  usage  at  the  hands  of  the  fierce 
French  mobs  of  different  revolutions,  who  respect  not  his- 
torical relics,  works  of  art,  or  even  the  sepulchres  of  the 
dead. 

The  exterior  of  this  magnificent  great  Gothic  structure  was 
familiar  to  me  from  the  many  engravings  I  had  seen  of  it, 
with  its  two  great  square  towers  of  over  two  hundred  feet  in 
height,  with  the  huge  rose  window  between  them  of  thirty- 
six  feet  in  diameter,  and  the  three  beautiful  Gothic  doors  of 
entrance,  rich  in  ornamentation,  carvings,  and  statues  of  saints. 
The  interior  has  that  grand  and  impressive  appearance  that 
attaches  to  all  these  superb  creations  of  the  old  cathedral 
builders.  The  vaulted  arches,  rising  one  above  another,  over 
a  hundred  feet  m  height,  present  a  fine  appearance,  and  a 
vista  of  Gothic  rohmms  stretches  along  its  length,  of  three 
hundred  and  m'neiy  feet;  at  the  transept  the  width  is  one 
hundred  and  fl?rty-four  feet.  The  three  great  rose  windows, 
which  will  rot  fail  to  challenge  admiration,  are  wonders  in 
their  way,  and.,  with  their  beautiful  stained  glass,  are  coeval 
with  the  foundation  of  the  cathedral. 

"We  ascended  the  tower,  and  enjoyed  the  magnificent  view 
of  Paris  from  its  summit,  and,  more  particularly,  the  course 
of  the  River  Seine  and  the  splendid  bridges  that  span  it.  Up 
here  we  saAV  the  huge  bells,  and  walked  round  amid  them, 
recalling  scenes  in  Victor  Hugo's  novel  of  the  Hunchback  of 
Notre  Dame;  these  were  the  huge  tocsins  that  Quasimodo 
19 


290  SAINTE   CHAPELLE. 

swung,  and  far  down  below  was  the  square  in  which  La 
Esmeralda  spread  her  little  carpet,  and  summoned  the  crowd, 
with  tambourine,  to  witness  her  dancing  goat ;  farther  away, 
to  the  right,  was  the  street  that  Captain  Porteous  rode  from 
at  the  head  of  his  troop ;  here,  upon  the  roof,  sheeted  with 
lead,  must  have  been  the  place  that  the  mishapen  dwarf  built 
the  fire  that  turned  the  dull  metal  into  a  molten  stream  that 
poured  destruction  upon  the  heads  of  the  mob  that  were  bat- 
tering the  portals  below.  With  what  an  interest  do  the  poet 
and  novelist  clothe  these  old  monuments  of  the  past !  Inter- 
twining them  with  the  garlands  of  their  imagination,  they 
contend  with  history  in  investing  them  with  attractions  to 
the  tourist. 

High  up  here,  at  the  edge  of  the  ramparts,  are  figures  of 
demons,  carved  in  stone,  looking  over  the  edge,  which  appear 
quite  "  little  devils "  from  the  pavement,  but  which  are,  in 
reality,  of  colossal  size.  The  pure  air  of  the  heavens,  as  we 
walked  around  here  near  the  clouds,  was  of  a  sudden  charged 
with  garlic,  which  nauseous  perfume  we  discovered,  on  in- 
vestigation, arose  from  the  hut  of  a  custodian  and  his  wife,  who 
dwelt  up  here,  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  city,  like  birds  in 
an  eyrie,  and  defiled  the  air  with  their  presence. 

One  of  the  most  gorgeous  church  interiors  of  Paris  is  that 
of  Sainte  Ohapelle  ;  this  building,  although  not  very  lai-ge,  is 
a  perfect  gem  of  Gothic  architecture,  and  most  beautifully  and 
perfectly  finished  in  every  part ;  it  is  one  hundred  and  twenty 
feet  long,  forty  wide,  and  has  a  spire  of  one  hundred  and 
forty  feet  in  height.  Every  square  inch  of  the  interior  is 
exquisitely  jjainted  and  gilded  in  diamonds,  lozenges,  and 
fleurs-de-lis ;  and  stars  spangle  the  arched  roof,  which  is  as 
blue  as  the  heavens.  The  windows  are  filled  with  exquisite 
stained  glass  of  the  year  1248  —  glass  which  escaped  the  ruin 
of  the  revolutions ;  and  the  great  rose  window  can  only  be 
likened  to  a  magnificent  flower  of  more  than  earthly  beauty, 
as  the  light  streams  through  its  glorious  coloring,  where  it 
\-ests  above  a  beautiful  Gothic  balustrade. 

Leaving  the  Sainte  Chapelle,  we  passed  a  few  rods  distant, 


THE    MADELEINE.  291 

after  turning  a  corner,  the  two  old  coffee-pot-looking  towers 
of  the  bloody  Conciergerie,  where  poor  Marie  Antoinette 
languished  for  seventy-six  days,  before  she  was  led  forth  to 
execution;  here  also  was  where  Ravaillac,  Robespierre,  and 
Charlotte  Corday  were  imprisoned;  and  the  very  bloody 
record-book  of  the  names  of  those  who  were  ordered  to  be 
despatched  during  the  revolution,  kept  by  the  human  butchers 
who  directed  affairs,  is  still  preserved,  and  shown  to  the 
visitor. 

That  magnificent  Grecian-looking  temple,  the  Madeleine, 
is  one  of  the  first  public  buildings  the  tourist  recognizes  in 
Paris.  As  many  Americans  are  apt  to  estimate  the  value  of 
things  by  the  money  they  cost,  it  may  be  of  interest  to  state 
that  this  edifice  cost  two  million  six  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars. It  is  really  a  magnificent  structure,  with  its  thirty  Co- 
rinthian columns,  fifteen  on  each  side,  and  its  noble  front,  with 
ornamental  pediment,  its  great  bronze  entrance,  doors  thirty- 
two  feet  high,  reached  by  the  broad  flight  of  marble  steps 
extending  across  the  whole  length  of  the  end  of  the  build- 
ing, the  dimensions  of  which  are  three  hundred  and  twenty- 
eight  feet  in  length  by  one  hundred  and  thirty-eight  in 
breadth.  The  beautiful  Corinthian  columns,  which,  counting 
those  at  the  ends,  are  fifty-two  in  number,  are  each  fifty  feet 
in  height.  The  broad,  open  square  about  the  Madeleine 
affords  an  excellent  opportunity  of  viewing  the  exterior ;  and 
one  needs  to  make  two  or  three  detours  about  the  building  to 
obtain  a  correct  idea  of  its  magnitude  and  beauty.  The  in. 
terior  is  one  spacious  hall,  the  floors  and  walls  all  solid  mar- 
ble, beautifully  decorated,  and  lighted  from  the  top  by  domes ; 
all  along  the  sides  are  chapels,  dedicated  to  different  saints, 
and  decorated  with  elegant  statues  and  paintings ;  the  high 
altar  is  rich  in  elegant  sculpture,  the  principal  group  repre- 
senting, in  marble,  Mary  Magdalene  borne  into  Paradise  by 
angels  —  exquisitely  done.  The  whole  effect  of  this  beautiful 
interior,  with  its  lofty  ornamented  domes  and  Corinthian  pil- 
lars, the  beautiful  statuary  and  bass-reliefs,  frescoing,  and  walls 
incrusted  with  rich  marbles,  is  grand  beyond  description. 


292  THE   PANTHEON. 

The  Church  of  St.  Genevieve,  better  known,  as  the  Pan- 
theon, is  another  magnificent  structure:  three  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  long  and  two  hundred  and  sixty  wide  is  this  beauti- 
ful building,  and  three  rows  of  elegant  Corinthian  columns 
support  its  portico.  We  gazed  up  at  the  beautiful  pediment, 
over  this  portico,  which  is  over  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet 
long  and  twenty-two  feet  high,  and  contains  a  splendid  group 
of  statuary  in  relief,  the  central  figure  of  which  is  fifteen  feet 
in  height;  but  above  the  whole  building  rises  the  majestic 
dome,  two  hundred  and  sixty-four  feet.  Inside  we  ascended 
into  this  grand  and  superb  cupola,  and,  after  making  a  por- 
tion of  the  ascent,  paused  in  a  circular  gallery  to  have  a  view 
of  the  great  painting  which  adorns  the  dome,  representing 
St.  Genevieve  receiving  homage  from  King  Clovis.  After  go- 
ing as  far  above  as  possible,  we  descended  with  a  party  to  the 
vaults  below,  where  we  were  shown  the  place,  in  which  the 
bodies  of  Mirabeau  and  Marat  were  deposited,  and  the  tombs 
of  Voltaire  and  Rousseau,  which,  however,  do  not  contain 
the  remains  of  the  two  philosophers.  We  were  then  escorted 
by  the  guide,  by  the  dim  light  of  his  lantern,  to  a  certain 
gloomy  part  of  the  vaults,  where  there  was  a  most  remark- 
able echo ;  a  clap  of  the  hand  reverberated  almost  like  a  peal 
of  thunder,  and  a  laugh  sounded  so  like  the  exultation  of  some 
gigantic  demon  who  had  entrapped  his  victims  here  in  his 
own  terrible  caverns,  as  to  make  us  quite  ready  to  follow 
the  guide  through  the  winding  passages  back  to  the  upper  re- 
gions, and  welcome  the  light  of  day. 

An  American  thinks  his  visit  to  Paris  scarcely  completed 
unless  he  has  visited  the  Jardin  Mabille.  It  has  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  very  wicked  place,  which,  in  some  degree,  ac- 
counts for  tourists,  whose  dread  of  appearances  at  home  re- 
strains them  from  going  to  naughty  places,  having  an  intense 
desire  to  visit  it ;  and  it  is  amusing  to  see  some  of  these  very 
proper  persons,  who  would  be  shocked  at  the  idea  of  going 
inside  a  theatre  at  home  for  fear  of  contamination,  who  are 
enjoying  the  spectacle  presented  here  like  forbidden  fruit, 
quite  confused  at  meeting  among  the  throng  their  friends 


LES    CHAMPS   ELYSEIIS.  293 

from  America  who  are  in  Paris,  as  is  frequently  the  case. 
Sometimes  the  confusion  is  mutual,  and  then  explanations 
of  both  parties  exhibit  a  degree  of  equivocation  that  would 
rival  a  Japanese  diplomat.  Those,  however,  who  expect  to 
see  any  outrageous  display  of  vice  or  immodesty  will  be  dis- 
appointed :  the  garden  is  under  the  strict  surveillance  of  the 
police,  and  there  is  a  far  more  immodest  display  by  the  ladies 
in  the  boxes  of  the  opera  at  the  Grand  Opera  in  London,  than 
by  the  frail  sisterhood  at  the  Jar  din.  During  the  travelling 
season  one  meets  plenty  of  tourists,  English  and  American, 
at  Mabille,  and  hears  the  English  tongue  spoken  in  the  garden 
on  every  side  of  him. 

Stroll  up  the  beautiful  Champs  Elysees  of  a  summer's  even- 
ing; all  along,  on  either  side,  the  groves,  gardens,  and  grounds 
are  brilliant  with  gas-jets,  colored  lights,  and  Chinese  lanterns, 
brilliant  cafes,  with  chairs  and  tables  in  front,  where  you  may 
sit  and  enjoy  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  cigar,  or  a  glass  of  wine, 
while  you  view  the  never-ending  succession  of  passers  by. 
Just  off  amid  the  trees  are  little  extemporized  theatres,  where 
the  never-tiring  comedy  of  Punch  and  Judy  is  performed  to 
admiring  crowds,  at  two  sous  a  head ;  little  booths,  with  a 
gambling  game,  which,  translated  into  English,  is  "  the  d — 
among  the  tailors,"  afford  an  opportunity  of  indulging  in  a 
game  of  chance  for  a  few  sous,  which  game  consists  in  setting 
a  brass  top  spinning  in  among  a  curious  arrangement  of  brass 
fixed  and  movable  upright  pins  upon  a  board ;  the  number 
of  pins  knocked  over,  and  little  brass  arches  passed  under,  by 
the  top,  determines  the  amount  of  the  prize  won  by  the  player, 
which  can  be  selected  from  the  knickknacks  in  the  booth 
ticketed  with  prize  cards. 

A  friend  of  mine,  a  very  proper  young  gentleman,  was  so 
attracted  by  the  gyrations  of  the  brass  top  spinning  on  these 
tables  one  evening,  that  he  insisted  upon  stopping  and  trying 
his  hand  at  the  game  •  he  did  so,  and  so  expertly  that  he  bore 
off  a  pair  of  cheap  vases,  a  china  dog,  and  a  papei  weight ;  his 
triumph  was  somewhat  dampened,  however,  at  being  reminded 
by  a  lady  friend,  whom  he  met  with  his  hands  filled  with  his 


U94  CAPES    CHANTANTS. 

treasures,  that  he  had  been  gambling  on  Sunday  evening.  It 
is  not -at  all  surprising,  however,  from  the  sights  and  scenes, 
that  one  should  forget  the  character  of  the  day,  there  is  so 
little  to  remind  him  of  it  in  Paris. 

Besides  these  booths  are  those  for  the  sale  of  a  variety  of 
fanciful  articles,  illuminated  penny  peep  shows ;  and  off  at 
side  streets  you  are  directed,  by  letters  in  gas  jets,  to  the  Cafes 
Chantants  —  enclosed  gardens  with  an  illuminated  pavilion 
at  one  end  of  them,  its  whole  side  open,  exposing  a  stage, 
upon  which  sit  the  singers,  handsomely  dressed,  who  are  to 
appear  in  the  programme.  The  stage  is  beautifully  illumi- 
nated with  gas  and  very  handsomely  decorated,  generally  rep- 
resenting the  interior  of  a  beautiful  drawing-room ;  the  audi- 
ence sit  at  tables  in  the  garden  immediately  before  the  stage, 
which,  from  its  raised  position,  affords  a  good  view  to  all ; 
there  is  no  charge  for  admission,  but  each  "« isitor  orders  some- 
thins:  to  the  value  of  from  half  a  franc  to  a"  franc  and  a  half 
of  the  waiters,  who  are  pretty  sharp  to  see  that  everybody 
does  order  something.  The  trees  are  hung  with  colored 
lights,  a  good  orchestra  plays  the  accompaniment  for  the 
singers,  besides  waltzes,  quadrilles,  and  galops,  and  the 
Frenchman  sits  and  sips  his  claret  or  coffee,  and  smokes 
his  cigar  beneath  the  trees,  and  has  an  evening,  to  him,  of 
infinite  enjoyment.  I  saw,  among  the  brilliant  group  that 
formed  the  corps  of  performers,  seated  upon  the  illuminated 
stage  at  one  of  these  Cafes  Chantants,  a  plump  negro  girl, 
whose  low-necked  and  short-sleeved  dress  revealed  the  sable 
hue  of  her  skin  in  striking  contrast  to  her  white  and  gold 
costume.     She  was  evidently  a  dusky  "star." 

But  we  will  continue  our  walk  up  the  beautiful  Elysian 
Fields ;  the  great,  broad  carriage-way  is  thronged  with  voitures, 
with  their  different  colored  lights  flitting  hither  and  thither 
like  elves  on  a  revel:  as  seen  in  the  distance  up  the  illu- 
minated course  they  sparkled  like  a  spangled  pathway,  clear 
away  up  to  the  huge  dusky  Arc  d'Etoile,  which  in  the  dis- 
tance rises  "like  an  exhalation."  The  little  bowers,  nooks, 
chairs,  and  booths  are  all  crowded ;  music  reaches  us  from  the 


THE    JAEDIN    MABILLE.  29h 

Cafes  Ohantants,  and  peals  of  laughter  at  tlie  performances  in 
the  raree-shows ;  finally,  reaching  the  Rond  Point,  a  sort  ot 
circular  opening  with  six  pretty  fountains,  —  and  turning  a 
little  to  the  left  upon  the  Avenue  Montaigne,  the  brilliant  gas 
jets  of  the  Jardin  Mabille  are  in  view  —  admission  three  francs 
for  gentlemen,  ladies  free. 

The  garden  is  prettily  laid  out  with  winding  paths,  flower- 
beds, fountains,  cosy  arbors,  where  refreshments  may  be 
ordered,  and  a  tete-a-tete  enjoyed,  the  trees  hung  Avith  colored 
lights,  artificial  perspectives  made  by  bits  of  painted  scenery 
placed  at  the  end  of  pretty  walks,  &c.  In  the  centre  is  a 
brilliantly  lighted  stand,  which  is  occupied  by  a  fine  orchestra, 
and  upon  the  smooth  flooring  about  it,  within  sound  of  the 
music,  the  dancers.  The  frequenters  of  Mabille  are  of  the 
upper  and  middle  class  among  the  males,  the  females  are 
generally  lorettes,  and  the  spectators  largely  composed  of 
Americans  and  English.  The  leader  of  the  orchestra  dis- 
plays a  large  card  bearing  the  name  of  each  piece  the  or- 
chestra will  perform,  as  "  Galop,"  "  Valse,"  "  Quadrille,"  &c, 
before  it  commences,  and  it  is  the  dance  which  is  one  of  the 
great  features  of  the  place ;  but  this,  which,  a  few  years  ago, 
used  to  be  so  novel,  has  been  so  robbed  of  its  "  naughtiness  " 
by  the  outrageous  displays  of  the  ballet,  and  the  indecencies 
of  "  White  Fawn  "  and  "  Black  Crook  "  dramas  have  left  the 
Jardin  Mabille  so  far  in  the  background  that  even  American 
ladies  now  venture  there  as  spectators. 

The  fact  that  the  women  at  Mabille  are  lorettes,  and  that 
in  dancing  they  frequently  kick  their  feet  to  the  height  of 
their  partners'  heads,  appears  to  be  the  leading  attractive 
feature  of  the  place.  The  style  of  dancing  is  a  curiosity, 
however;  a  quadrille  of  these  women  and  their  partners  is  a 
specimen  of  the  saltatory  art  worth  seeing.  There  is  no  slow, 
measured  sliding  and  dawdling  through  the  figure,  as  in  our 
cotillons  at  home;  the  dancers  dance  all  over  —  feet,  arms, 
muscles,  head,  body,  and  legs  ;  each  quadrille,  in  which  there 
are  dancers  of  noted  skill  and  agility,  is  surrounded  by  a 
circle  of  admiring  spectators.     The  men,  as  they  forward  and 


'196  DANCIXG   AT   MABILLE. 

back,  and  chasse,  bend  and  writhe  like  eels,  now  stooping 
nearly  to  the  floor,  then  rising  with  a  bound  into  the  air  like 
a  rubber  ball :  forward  to  partners,  a  fellow  leans  forward  his 
head,  and  feigns  to  kiss  the  advancing  siren,  who,  with  a 
sudden  movement,  brings  her  foot  up  in  the  position  just  oc- 
cupied by  his  face,  which  is  skilfully  dodged  by  the  fellow 
leaping  backwards,  agile  as  an  ape ;  the  men  toss  their  arms, 
throw  out  their  feet,  describe  arcs,  circles,  and  sometimes  a 
spry  fellow  turns  a  summersault  in  the  dance.  The  girls 
gather  up  their  long  skirts  to  the  knee  with  their  hand,  and 
are  scarcely  less  active  than  their  partners  ;  they  bound  for- 
ward, now  and  then  kicking  their  boots,  with  white  lacings, 
high  into  the  air,  sometimes  j^erforming  the  well-known  trick 
of  kicking  off  the  hat  of  a  gaping  Englishman  or  American, 
who  may  be  watching  the  dance.  The  waltz,  polka,  and 
galop  are  performed  with  a  frantic  fervor  that  makes  even 
the  spectator's  head  swim,  and  at  its  close  the  dancers  repair 
to  the  tables  to  cool  off  with  iced  drinks,  or  a  stroll  in  the 
garden  walks. 

The  proprietors  of  the  Jardin  Mabille,  Closerie  des  Lilas, 
and  similar  places,  generally  have  some  few  female  dancers 
of  more  than  usual  gymnastic  skill,  and  with  some  personal 
attraction,  whom  they  employ  as  regular  habitues  of  the 
gardens  as  attractions  for  strangers,  more  particularly  green 
young  Englishmen  and  Americans.  This  place,  however,  is 
perfectly  safe,' being  under  strict  surveillance  of  the  police, 
and  there  is  very  rarely  the  least  disturbance  or  rudeness ; 
the  police  see 'that  the  gardens  are  cleared,  and  the  gas  ex- 
tinguished, at  midnight.  Two  nights  in  the  week  at  the 
Jardin  Mabille  are  fete  nights,  when  a  grand  display  of  fire- 
works is  added  to  the  other  attractions  of  the  place. 

The  Closerie  des  Lilas  is  a  garden  not  so  extensive  as 
Mabille,  frequented  principally  by  students  and  their  mistres- 
ses —  admission  one  franc,  ladies  free.  Here  the  dancing  is  a 
little  more  demonstrative,  and  the  dresses  are  cut  rather  lower 
in  the  neck ;  yet  the  costume  and  display  of  the  person  are 
modest  in  comparison  with  that  in  the  spectacular  pieces  upon 


TJE    LUXEMBOURG.  297 

the  stage.  The  students  go  in  for  a  jolly  time,  and  have  it, 
if  dancing  with  all  their  might,  waltzing  like  whirling  der- 
vishes, and  undulating  through  the  Can-Can  with  abandon 
indescribable,  constitute  it. 

Of  course  we  did  not  omit  the  Palace  of  the  Luxembourg, 
with  its  superb  gallery  of  modern  paintings,  among  which  we 
noticed  Delacroix'  pictures  of  Dante  and  Virgil,  and  Massacre 
of  Scio ;  Oxen  ploughing  by  Rosa  Bonheur,  and  Hay  Harvest 
by  the  same  artist ;  Horace  Vernet's  Meeting  of  Raphael  and 
Michael  Angelo,  and  Midler's  Calling  the  Roll  of  Victims  to 
be  guillotined,  during  the  Reign  of  Terror.  In  this  palace 
is  also  the  Hall  of  the  Senate,  semicircular,  about  one  hundred 
feet  in  diameter,  elegantly  decorated  with  statues,  busts,  and 
pictures,  and  the  vaulted  ceiling  adorned  with  allegorical  fres- 
coes. Here  is  also  the  Salle  du  Trone,  or  Throne  Room,  a 
magnificent  saloon,  elegantly  frescoed,  ornamented,  and  gilded. 
The  throne  itself  is  a  large  chair,  elegantly  upholstered, 
with  the  Napoleonic  N  displayed  upon  it,  upon  a  raised  dais, 
above  which  was  a  splendid  canopy  supported  by  caryatides. 
The  walls  of  the  saloon  were  adorned  with  elegant  pictures, 
representing  Napoleon  at  the  Invalides,  Napoleon  I.  elected 
emperor,  and  Napoleon  I.  receiving  the  flags  taken  at  Aus- 
terlitz.  Other  paintings,  representing  scenes  in  the  emperor's 
life,  are  in  a  small  apartment  adjoining,  called  the  Emperor's 
Cabinet.  We  then  visited  here  the  chamber  of  Marie  de 
Medicis,  which  contains  the  arm-chair  used  at  the  coronation 
of  Napoleon  I.,  and  paintings  by  Rubens.  The  latter  were 
taken  down,  with  some  of  the  beautiful  panelling,  which  is 
rich  in  exquisite  scroll-work,  and  concealed  during  the  revolu- 
tion of  1789,  and  replaced  again  in  1817. 

The  Garden  of  Plants,  at  Paris,  is  another  of  those  very 
enjoyable  places  in  Europe,  in  which  the  visitor  luxuriates  in 
gratifying  his  taste  for  botany,  zoology,  and  mineralogy,  and 
natural  science.  Here  in  this  beautiful  garden  are  spacious 
hot-houses  and  green-houses,  with  every  variety  of  rare  plants, 
a  botanical  garden,  galleries  of  botany,  zoology,  and  mineral- 
ogy, and  a  great  amphitheatre  and  laboratories  for  lectures, 


298  GARDEN    OF    PLANTS. 

which  are  free  to  all  who  desire  to  attend,  given  by  scientific 
and  skilled  lecturers,  from  April  to  October.  The  amphi- 
theatre for  lectures  will  hold  twelve  hundred  persons; 
and  among  the  lectures  on  the  list,  which  is  posted  up  at  its 
entrance,  and  also  at  the  entrance  of  the  gardens,  were  the 
subjects  of  chemistry,  geology,  anatomy,  physiology,  botany, 
and  zoology.  Many  scientific  men  of  celebrity  received  their 
education  here,  and  the  different  museums  are  rich  in  rare 
specimens  of  their  departments.  The  Zoological  Museum 
has  a  fine  collection  of  stuffed  specimens  of  natural  history, 
zoophites,  birds,  butterflies,  large  mammiferous  animals,  &c. 
The  Geological  Museum  is  admirably  arranged  —  curious 
specimens  from  all  parts  of  the  world  —  from  mountains, 
waterfalls,  volcanoes,  mines,  coral-reefs,  and  meteors,  i.  e., 
specimens  from  the  earth  below  and  the  heavens  above.  The 
Botanical  Department,  besides  its  botanical  specimens,  has  a 
museum  of  woods  similar  to  that  at  Kew  Gardens.  A  Cabi- 
net of  Anatomy  contains  a  collection  of  skeletons  of  animals, 
&c.  The  Zoological  Garden  is  the  most  interesting  and  most 
frequented  part  of  the  grounds.  The  lions,  tigers,  bears,  ele- 
phants, hyenas,  and  other  beasts  have  spacious  enclosures,  as 
in  the  Zoological  Gardens  at  London,  though  not  so  well  ar- 
ranged, nor  is  the  collection  so  extensive.  The  Palais  des1 
Singes  (palace  of  monkeys),  a  circular  building  provided  for 
these  agile  acrobats,  is  a  most  attractive  resort,  and  always 
thronged  with  spectators.  Parterres  of  flowers,  handsome 
shade  trees,  shrubs,  and  curious  plants  adorn  the  grounds  and 
border  the  winding  walks  and  paths ;  and  the  visitor  cannot 
help  being  impressed  that  almost  everything  connected  with 
natural  science  is  represented  here  in  this  grand  garden  and 
museum  —  plants,  animals,  fossils,  minerals,  curious  collec- 
tions, and  library.  A  single  visit  scarcely  suffices  to  view  the 
menagerie,  and  many  days  would  be  required  to  examine  the 
whole  collection  in  different  departments. 

St.  Cloud !  Even  those  who  travel  Avith  a  valet  cle  place, 
and  cannot  understand  a  word  of  French,  seem  to  learn  the 
pronunciation  of  this  name,  and  to  air  their  *•?■  song  Mew"  with 


PALACE    OF   ST.    CLOUD.  299 

much  satisfaction.  Through  the  splendid  apartments  of  this 
palace  —  since  our  visit,  alas !  destroyed  by  the  invading  Prus- 
sians—  we  strolled  of  a  Sunday  afternoon.  There  was  the 
Saloon  of  Mars,  Saloon  of  Diana,  rich  in  magnificent  fresco- 
ing, representing  the  gods  and  goddesses  of  heathen  mythol- 
ogy upon  the  lofty  ceilings ;  the  Gallery  of  Apollo,  a  vast  and 
magnificently-decorated  apartment,  ceiling  painted  by  Mi- 
gnard,  with  scenes  in  the  life  of  Apollo,  walls  beautifully  gilt 
and  frescoed,  hung  with  rare  paintings,  furnished  with  cabinets 
of  elegant  Sevres  porcelain,  rich  and  curious  furniture,  and 
costly  bronzes.  It  was  here,  in  this  apartment,  that  Prince 
Napoleon,  son  of  Jerome,  was  baptized  by  Pope  Pius  VII.,  in 
1805,  and  here  the  marriage  of  Napoleon  I.  and  Maria  Louisa 
was  celebrated  in  1810.  Then  we  go  on  through  the  usual 
routine  of  grand  apartments  —  Saloons  of  Minerva,  Mercury, 
Aurora,  Venus,  &c.  —  rich  in  magnificent  paintings,  wondrous 
tapestry,  elegant  carving,  and  splendid  decorations.  Here 
are  a  suit  of  rooms  that  have  been  occupied  by  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, the  Empress  Josephine,  Marie  Louise,  Louis  Philippe, 
and  also  by  Louis  Napoleon.  Historical  memories  come 
thickly  into  the  mind  on  visiting  these  places,  and  throw  an 
additional  charm  about  them.  St.  Cloud  often  figures  in  the 
history  of  the  great  Napoleon.  That  great  soldier  and  Ms 
Guard,  Cromwell-like,  dispersed  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred 
that  held  their  sessions  here  in  1799,  and  was  soon  after  made 
first  consul.  Farther  back  in  history,  here  the  monk  assas- 
sinated Henry  III.,  and  it  was  here  Louis  XIV.  and  Louis 
XVI.  often  sojourned. 

The  Cascade  at  St.  Cloud  is  the  object  that  figures  most 
frequently  in  illustrated  books  and  pictures,  and  the  leading 
attraction  inquired  for.  It  is  in  the  grand  park,  and  consists 
of  a  series  of  vast  steps,  at  the  top  of  which  are  huge  foun- 
tains, which  send  the  water  down  in  great  sheets,  forming  a 
succession  of  waterfalls,  the  sides  of  the  steps  ornamented 
with  innumerable  vases  and  shell-work.  The  water,  after 
passing  these  steps,  reaches  a  great  semicircular  basin,  sur- 
rounded by  jets  cFeau,  and  from  thence  falls  over  other  grand 


300  SUNDAY    AMUSEMENTS. 

steps  into  a  grand  canal,  two  hundred  and  sixty  feet  long  and 
ninety  wide  ;  dolphins  spouting  into  it,  fountains  running  over 
from  vases,  and  spouting  upright  from  the  basin  itself,  and 
one  huge  waterspout  near  by  sending  up  its  aqueous  shaft 
one  hundred  and  forty  feet  into  the  air,  the  whole  forming  a 
sparkling  spectacle  in  the  sunlight  of  a  summer  afternoon. 

Every  alternate  Sunday  in  summer  is  a  fete  day  here ;  and 
on  one  of  these  occasions  we  saw  fountains  playing,  merry- 
go-round  horses,  with  children  upon  the  horses,  ten-pin  alleys, 
in  which  the  prizes  were  dolls,  china  ware,  and  macaroon 
cakes.     Here  was  a  figure  of  an  open-mouthed  giant,  into 
which  the  visitor  was  invited  to  pitch  three  wooden  balls  for 
two  sous ;  prizes,  three  ginger-snaps  in  case  of  success.     The 
d — 1  among  the  tailors  was  in  brisk  operation ;  a  loud-voiced 
Frenchman  invited  spectators  to  throw  leathern  balls  at  some 
grotesque  dolls  that  he  had  in  a  row  astride  of  a  cord,  a  sou 
only  for  three  shots ;  and  prizes  for  knocking  off  the  dolls, 
which  were  dressed  to  represent  obnoxious  personages,  and 
duly  labelled,  were  paid  in  j^etty  artificial  flowers  made  of 
paper.     Fortune-wheels   could  be  whirled  at  half  a  franc  a 
turn,  the  gifts  on  which  that  halted  beneath  the  rod  of  the 
figure  of  the  enchanter  that  stood  above  them  belonged  to 
the  whirler.     I  heard  a  vigorous  crowing,  succeeded  by  a  fel- 
low shouting,  "Coq  de  village,  vn  sou!     Coq  cle  village,  un 
sou,  messieurs!''''     He  had  a  huge  basket  filled  with  little 
shells,  which  were  so  prepared  that,  when  blown  upon,  they 
gave  a  clever  imitation  of  chanticleer.     Fandangos   carried 
their  laughing  groups  up  into  the  air  and  down  again;  in- 
clined planes,  with  self-running  cars,  gave  curious  rides ;  and 
in  one  part  of  the  grounds  were  shown  booths  of  the  old 
English  fair  kind.     Before  one,  on  a  platform,  a  clown  danced, 
and  invited  the  public  to  enter,  to  the  music  of  bass  drum  and 
horn;  ponies,  monkeys,  trained  dogs,  and  other  performers 
were  paraded,  as  an  indication  of  what  might  be  seen  within ; 
pictorial  representations  of  giants,  fat  women,  and   dwarfs 
were  in  front  of  others ;  a  sword-swallower  took  a  mouthful 
or  two  by  way  of  illustrating  the  appetite  he  would  display 


SHOPS   IN   PARIS.  301 

for  three  sous ;  and  a  red-hot  iron  taster,  in  suit  of  dirty  red 
and  white  muslin,  and  gold  spangles,  passed  a  heated  bar 
dangerously  near  his  tongue,  intimating  that  those  who 
desired  could,  by  the  investment  of  a  few  coppers,  have  the 
rare  privilege  of  witnessing  his  repast  of  red-hot  iron. 
These,  and  scores  of  other  cheap  amusements,  invited  the 
attention  of  the  thousands  that  thronged  the  park  on  that 
pleasant  Sunday  afternoon;  and  among  all  the  throng,  which 
was  composed  principally  of  the  common  people,  we  saw  not 
a  single  case  of  intoxication,  and  the  trim-dressed  officers  of 
police,  in  dress  coats,  cocked  hats,  and  swords,  Avho  sauntered 
here  and  there,  had  little  to  do,  except,  when  a  throng  at 
some  point  became  too  dense,  to  open  a  passage,  or  cause 
some  of  the  loungers  to  move  on  a  little. 

The  traveller  who  visits  the  splendid  retail  establishments 
in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  or  on  the  Boulevards,  unattended,  and 
purchases  what  suits  his  fancy,  paying  the  price  that  the  very 
supple  and  cringing  salesmen  choose  to  charge,  or  even  goes 
into  those  magasins  in  which  a  conspicuously-displayed  sign 
announces  the  prixfixe,  will,  after  a  little  experience,  become 
perfectly  amazed  at  the  elasticity  of  French  conscience,  not 
to  say  the  skill  and  brazen  effrontery  of  French  swindling. 

In  four  fifths  of  these  great  retail  stores,  the  discovery  that 
the  purchaser  is  an  American  or  an  Englishman,  and  a  stran- 
ger, is  a  signal  for  increasing  the  regular  price  of  every  arti- 
cle he  desires  to  purchase ;  if  he  betrays  his  ignorance  of  the 
usual  rate,  palming  off  an  inferior  quality  of  goods,  and  ob- 
taining an  advantage  in  every  possible  way,  besides  the  legit- 
imate profit.  It  never  seems  to  enter  the  heads  of  these 
smirking,  supple-backed  swindlers,  that  a  reputation  for  hon- 
esty and  fair  dealing  is  worth  anything  at  all  to  their  estab- 
lishments. Possibly  they  argue  that,  as  Paris  is  headquarters 
for  shopping,  buyers  will  come,  willy-nilly;  or  it  may  be  that 
deception  is  so  much  a  part  of  the  Frenchman's  nature,  that 
it  is  a  moral  impossibility  for  him  to  get  along  without  a 
certain  amount  of  it. 

The  prixjixe,  put  up  to  indicate  that  the  establishment  has 


302  FRENCH    SHOPKEEPERS. 

a  fixed  price,  from  which  there  is  no  abatement,  after  the 
style  of  the  "  one  price "  stores  in  America,  very  often  has 
but  little  significance.  A  friend  with  Avhom  I  was  shopping 
upon  one  occasion  told  the  shop-keeper,  whom  he  had  offered 
fifteen  or  twenty  per  cent,  less  than  his  charge,  and  who 
pointed,  with  an  expressive  shrug,  to  the  placard,  that  he  was 
perfectly  aware  the  price  was  fixed,  as  it  generally  was 
"fixed"  all  over  Paris  for  every  new  customer.  Monsieur 
was  so  charme  with  his  repartee,  that  he  obtained  the  arti- 
cle at  the  price  he  offered. 

One  frequently  sees  costly  articles,  or  some  that  have  been 
very  slightly  worn,  displayed  in  a  shop  window,  ticketed  at  a 
low  price,  and  marked  X'  Occasion,  to  signify  that  it  is  not  a 
part  of  the  regular  stock,  but  has  been  left  there  for  sale  — 
is  an  "opportunity;"  or  intimating,  perhaps,  that  it  is  sold  by 
some  needy  party,  who  is  anxious  to  raise  the  ready  cash. 
Some  of  these  opportunities  are  bargains,  but  the  buyer  must 
be  on  his  guard  that  the  "  occasion  "  is  not  one  that  has  been 
specially  prepared  to  entrap  the  purchaser  into  taking  a  dam- 
aged article  of  high  cost  at  a  price  beyond  its  real  value. 

Although  the  French  shop-keeper  may  use  every  artifice  to 
make  the  buyer  pay  an  exorbitant  rate  for  his  goods,  the  law 
is  very  stringent  in  certain  branches  of  trade,  and  prevents 
one  species  of  barefaced  cheating  that  is  continually  prac- 
tised in  New  York,  and  has  been  for  years,  with  no  indica- 
tions that  it  will  ever  be  abolished. 

In  Paris — at  least  on  the  Boulevards  and  great  retail 
marts  —  there  are  no  mock  auction  shops,  gift  enterprise 
swindlers,  bogus  ticket  agencies,  or  similar  traps  for  the  un- 
wary, which  disgrace  New  York.  Government  makes  quick 
work  of  any  abuse  of  this  kind,  and  the  police  abolish  it  and 
the  proprietor  so  completely,  that  few  dare  try  the  experi- 
ment. Neither  dare  dealers  in  galvanized  watches  or  imita- 
tion jewelry  sell  it  for  gold.  They  are  compelled  to  display 
the  word  "imitation"  conspicuously  upon  their  shop  front 
and  window ;  and  really  imitation  jewelry  is  such  an  impor- 
tant article  of  trade,  that  as  much  skill  is  exhausted  upon  it 


PROTECTION    OF    THE   PUBLIC.  303 

as  in  the  real  article,  and  dealers  vie  with  each  other  in  pro- 
ducing splendid  imitations,  some  of  which  are  so  good  that 
a  purchaser  may,  while  the  article  is  worn  in  its  "  newest 
gloss,"  make  a  display  for  ten  francs  that  in  the  real  article 
would  cost  as  many  hundreds.  Neither  are  dealers  allowed 
to  sell  berries  by  the  "  box,"  or  j>eaches  by  the  "  crate ; "  nor 
are  there  any  of  the  opportunities  of  America  in  making  the 
"  box "  or  the  "  crate "  smaller,  without  deduction  of  price. 
Many  kinds  of  fruit  are  sold  by  weight,  and  there  appears  to 
be  a  rigid  inspection,  that  poor  and  damaged  articles  shall  not 
be  palmed  off  upon  purchasers.  "When  the  government  steps 
in  to  the  regulation  of  trade,  it  does  it  so  business-like,  so 
thoroughly,  promptly,  and  effectually,  and  places  such  an  im- 
passable bar  to  imposture,  that  an  American,  even  of  the 
most  spread-eagle  description,  cannot  help  acknowledging 
that  there  are  some  advantages  in  imperial  rule,  after  all. 
He  certainly  feels  a  decided  degree  of  confidence  that  the  law 
will  be  enforced  upon  a  ruffian  or  a  pickpocket,  that  should 
be  detected  in  any  attempt  to  interfere  with  him,  which  he 
never  can  feel  in  the  city  of  New  York,  and  that  the  French 
police  are  always  on  hand,  know  and  perform  their  duty 
without  solicitation ;  are  efficient  officers  of  the  law,  and  not 
political  roughs,  rewarded  with  places,  to  be  paid  for  with 
votes. 

There  are  many  French  articles  that  have  a  large  sale  in 
America,  and  which  the  traveller  promises  himself  he  will  lay 
in  a  supply  of,  on  visiting  Paris,  which  he  is  quite  surprised  to 
find,  on  inquiry,  are  hardly  ever  called  for  by  Parisians.  Thus 
certain  brands  of  kid  gloves,  and  varieties  of  perfumery,  that 
are  very  popular  in  America,  can  scarcely  be  found  at  the 
shops  on  the  Boulevards.  The  best  gloves,  and  those  most 
celebrated  in  Paris,  which  are  really  marvels  of  excellence  in 
workmanship,  are  of  a  brand  that  cannot  be  found  in  the 
American  shops,  their  high  price  affording  too  little  margin 
for  profit ;  but  scarce  an  American  Avho  visits  Paris  but  sup- 
plies himself  from  the  now  well-known  magasin  in  Rue  Riche- 
lieu.   A  friend,  who  thought  to  purchase  at  headquarters. 


304         CONSULTING  PUECHASEES'  TASTES. 

sought  in  vain  in  Paris  for  the  thick,  yellow,  and  handsomely- 
stitched  gloves  he  had  seen  in  Regent  Street,  London,  known 
as  French  dose-skin.  Nothing  of  the  kind  could  be  found. 
They  were  made  exclusively  for  the  English  market. 

But  it  really  seems  as  if  almost  everything  ever  heard  or 
thought  of  could  be  bought  in  the  French  capital,  and  made 
in  any  style,  prepared  in  any  form,  and  furnished  with  mar- 
vellous speed.  There  is  one  characteristic  of  the  European 
shopmen,  which  I  have  before  referred  to,  which  is  in  agree- 
able contrast  with  many  American  dealers  ;  and  that  is,  their 
willingness  to  make  or  alter  an  article  to  the  purchaser's 
taste ;  to  sell  you  what  you  want,  and  not  dispute,  and  try  to 
force  an  article  upon  you  which  they  argue  you  ought  to 
have,  instead  of  the  one  you  call  for.  If  a  lady  liked  the 
sleeves  of  one  cloak,  and  the  body  of  another,  she  is  informed 
that  the  change  of  sleeves  shall  instantly  be  made  from  one 
to  the  other.  Does  a  gentleman  order  a  pair  of  boots  with 
twisted  toes,  the  boot-maker  only  says,  "  Certainement,  mon- 
sieur" and  takes  his  measure.  The  glover  will  give  you  any 
hue,  in  or  out  of  the  fashion,  stitched  with  any  colored  silk, 
and  gratify  any  erratic  taste,  without  question,  at  twenty-four 
hours'  notice.  The  ribbon-seller  will  show  you  an  innumera- 
ble variety  of  gradations  of  the  same  hue,  will  match  any- 
thing, and  shows  a  skill  in  endeavoring  to  suit  you  exactly. 
In  fact,  we  presume  that  the  foreign  shopman  accepts  the 
situation,  and  is  striving  to  be  more  a  shopman  than  ever, 
instead  of — as  is  too  often  the  case  in  our  own  country  — 
acting  as  though  he  merely  held  the  position  pro  tempore, 
and  was  conferring  an  honor  upon  the  purchaser  by  serv- 
ing him. 

Purchases  may  be  made  down  to  infinitesimal  quantities, 
especially  of  articles  of  daily  consumption ;  and  where  so 
many  are  making  a  grand  display  upon  a  small  capital,  as  in 
Paris,  it  is  necessary  that  every  convenience  should  be 
afforded ;  and  it  is.  Living  in  apartments,  one  may  obtain 
everything  from  the  magasins  within  a  stone's  throw.  He 
may   order   turkey  and   truffles,   and   a   grand  dinner,  w'th 


ECONOMY    VS.   WASTE.  305 

entrees,  which  will  be  furnished  him  at  his  lodgings,  at  any 
hour,  from  the  neighboring  restaurant,  with  dishes,  table  fur- 
niture, and  servant ;  or  he  may  order  the  leg  of  a  fowl,  one 
pickle,  and  two  sous'  worth  of  salt  and  pepper.  He  can  call 
in  a  porter,  with  a  back-load  of  wood  for  a  fire,  or  buy  three 
or  four  sous'  worth  of  fagots.  But  your  true  Frenchman,  of 
limited  means,  utilizes  everything.  He  argues,  and  very  cor- 
rectly, that  all  he  pays  for  belongs  to  him.  So  at  the  cafe 
you  will  see  him  carefully  wrap  the  two  or  three  lumps  of 
sugar  that  remain,  of  those  furnished  him  for  his  coffee,  in  a 
paper,  and  carry  them  away.  They  save  the  expense  of  the 
article  for  the  morning  cup  at  his  lodgings.  So  if  a  cake  or 
two,  or  biscuit,  remain,  he  appropriates  them  as  his  right; 
and  I  have  even  seen  one  who  went  so  far  as  to  pocket  two 
or  three  little  wax  matches  that  were  brouqht  to  him  with  a 
cigar.  Much  has  been  said  of  how  cheaply  one  can  live  in 
Paris.  This  would  apply,  with  equal  truthfulness,  to  many 
of  our  own  cities,  if  people  would  live  in  the  same  way,  and 
practise  the  same  economy.  This,  however,  is  repugnant  to 
the  American,  and,  in  some  respects,  mistaken  idea  of  lib- 
erality. 

The  absolute,  unnecessary  waste  in  an  American  gentle- 
man's kitchen  would  support  two  French  fimilies  comfortably. 
In  some  it  already  suppoi-ts  three  or  four  Irish  ones. 

There  are  three  ways  of  going  shopping  in  Paris.  The 
first  is  to  start  out  by  yourself,  and  seek  out  stores  which 
may  have  the  goods  that  you  desire  to  purchase ;  the  sec- 
ond, to  avail  yourself  of  the  services  of  a  valet  de  place,  or 
courier;  and  the  third,  to  employ  the  services  of  one  of 
your  banker's  clerks,  who  is  an  expert,  or  those  of  a  commis- 
sion merchant. 

We  have  experimented  in  all  thi-ee  methods.  In  the  first,  you 
are  sure  to  pay  the  extreme  retail  price.  In  the  second,  you 
are  very  likely  to  do  the  same,  the  only  difference  being  that 
the  courier  gets  a  handsome  doucextr  from  the  shop-keeper 
for  introducing  you,  or,  in  other  words,  shares  with  him  the 
extra  amount  of  which  you  have  been  plundered.  The  latter 
20 


306  GOING    SHOPPING   IN   PARIS. 

method  is  by  far  the  best  and  most  satisfactory  to  strangers 
unfamiliar  with  Paris  and  French  customs. 

Stereoscopic  views  of  Paris,  which  we  were  charged  one 
franc  apiece  for  on  the  Boulevards,  were  purchased  of  the 
manufacturer  in  his  garret  at  three  francs  a  dozen.  Spec- 
tacles which  cost  five  dollars  a  pair  in  Boston,  and  eight 
francs  on  the  Boulevards,  we  bought  for  three  francs  a  pair 
of  the  wholesale  dealer.  Gloves  are  sold  at  ail  sorts  of 
prices,  and  are  of  all  sorts  of  qualities,  and  the  makers  will 
make  to  measure  any  pattern  or  style  to  suit  any  sort  of 
fancy.  Jewelry  we  were  taken  to  see  in  the  quarter  where 
it  was  made  —  up  stairs,  in  back  rooms,  often  in  the  same 
building  where  the  artisan  lived,  where,  there  being  no  plate 
glass,  grand  store,  and  heavy  expenses  to  pay,  certain  small 
articles  of  bijouterie  could  be  purchased  at  a  very  low  figure ; 
rich  jewelry,  diamonds,  and  precious  stones  were  sold  in 
quiet,  massive  rooms,  up  stairs,  in  buildings  approached 
through  a  court-yard. 

For  diamonds,  you  may  be  taken  up  stairs  to  a  small,  care- 
fully guarded  inner  room,  dimly  lighted,  in  which  a  black- 
velvet-covered  table  or  counter,  and  two  or  three  leather- 
covered  chairs,  give  a  decidedly  funereal  aspect  to  the  place. 
An  old,  bent  man,  whose  hooked  nose  and  glittering  eyes  be- 
token him  a  Hebrew,  waits  upon  your  conductor,  whom  he 
greets  as  an  old  acquaintance.  He  adjusts  the  window 
shade  so  that  the  light  falls  directly  upon  the  black  counter 
(which  is  strikingly  suggestive  of  being  prepared  to  receive 
a  coffin),  or  else  pulls  down  the  window-shade,  and  turns  up 
the  gas-light  directly  above  the  black  pedestal,  and  then,  from 
some  inner  safe  or  strong  box,  produces  little  packages  of 
tissue  paper,  from  which  he  displays  the  flashing  gems  upon 
the  black  velvet,  shrewdly  watching  the  effect,  and  the  pur- 
chaser's skill  and  judgment,  and  keeping  back  the  most 
desirable  stones  until  the  last. 

Ladies'  ready-made  clothing  may  be  bought  in  Paris  as 
readily  as  gentlemen's  can  be  in  New  York  or  Boston  —  gar- 
ments of  great  elegance,  and  of  the  most  fashionable  make 


a  ladies'  dress  store.  307 

and  trimming,  such  as  full  dress  for  evening  party  or  ball, 
dress  for  promenade,  morning  dress,  and  cloaks  of  the  latest 
mode.  These  are  made,  apparently,  with  all  the  care  of 
"  custom  made  "  garments,  certainly  of  just  as  rich  silk,  satin, 
and  velvet,  and  a  corps  of  workwomen  appears  to  be  always 
in  attendance,  to  immediately  adapt  a  dress  or  garment  to 
the  purchaser  by  alteration,  to  make  it  a  perfect  fit.  In  one 
of  these  large  establishments  for  the  sale  of  ladies'  clothing 
were  numerous  small  private  drawing-rooms,  each  of  which 
was  occupied  by  different  lady  purchasers,  who  were  making 
their  selections  of  dresses,  mantles,  or  cloaks,  which  were 
being  exhibited  to  them  in  almost  endless  variety. 

The  saleswomen  were  aided  by  young  women,  evidently 
selected  for  their  height  and  good  figures,  whose  duty  it  was 
to  continually  whip  on  a  dress  or  mantle,  and  promenade 
back  and  forth  before  the  purchasers.  By  these  shrewd 
manoeuvres,  many  a  fat  dowager  or  dumpy  woman  of  wealth 
was  induced  to  purchase  an  elegant  garment,  which,  upon 
the  lithe,  undulating  figure  of  a  girl  of  twenty  was  a  thing 
of  grace  and  beauty,  thinking  it  would  have  the  same  effect 
upon  herself.  These  model  artists  were  adepts  in  the  art  of 
dress,  and  knew  how  to  manage  a  dress  trail  in  the  most 
distingue  style,  wore  a  mantelet  with  a  grace,  and  threw  a 
glance  over  the  shoulder  of  a  new  velvet  cloak  or  mantle 
with  an  archness  and  naivete  that  straightway  invested  it 
with  a  charm  that  could  never  have  been  given  to  it  had  it 
been  displayed  upon  a  "  dummy."  As  an  illustration  of  the 
value  of  a  reliable  commissionaire's  services  at  this  first-class 
establishment,  it  is  only  necessary  to  state,  that  on  our  sec- 
ond visit,  which  was  in  his  company,  we  found  that  a  differ- 
ence of  eighty  to  a  hundred  francs  was  made  in  our  favor,  on 
a  six  hundred  franc  costume,  upon  what  was  charged  when 
we  came  as  strangers,  and  alone. 

There  are  some  magnificent  India  shawl  stores  in  Paris, 
carried  on  by  companies  of  great  wealth,  who  have  their 
agents  and  operatives  constantly  employed  in  India,  and 
whose  splendid  warehouses  are  filled  with  a  wealth  of  those 


308  BARGAINS. 

draperies  that  all  women  covet.  In  a  room  of  one  of  these 
great  shawl  warehouses  we  saw  retail  dealers  selecting  and 
purchasing  their  supplies.  Salesmen  were  supplied  by  assist- 
ants with  different  styles  from  the  shelves,  which  were  dis- 
played before  the  buyer  upon  a  lay  figure;  and  upon  his 
displeasure  or  decision,  it  was  immediately  cast  aside  upon 
the  floor,  to  be  refolded  and  replaced  by  other  assistants; 
which  was  so  much  more  labor,  however,  than  unfolding,  that 
the  floor  was  heaped  with  the  rich  merchandise.  This  so 
excited  an  American  visitor,  that  she  could  not  help  exclaim- 
ing, "  Only  think  of  it !  Must  it  not  be  nice  to  stand  kneu- 
deep  in  Cashmere  shawls  ?  " 

Many  purchasers,  who  seek  low  prices  and  fair  dealings, 
visit  the  establishment  known  as  the  "  Bon  Marche"  rather 
out  of  the  fashionable  quarter  of  the  city,  and  "  the  other 
side  of  the  Seine."  The  proprietor  of  this  place  buys  in  big 
lots,  and  sells  on  the  quick-sales-and-small-profits  principle ; 
and  his  immense  warehouse,  which  is  filled  with  every  species 
of  dry  goods,  haberdashery,  ribbons,  clothing,  gloves,  gents' 
furnishing  goods,  and  almost  everything  except  groceries  and 
medicines,  is  crammed  with  purchasers  every  day,  whose 
voitures  fine  the  streets  in  the  immediate  vicinity.  At  this 
place  bargains  are  often  obtained  in  articles  of  ladies'  dress, 
which  may  be  a  month  past  the  season,  and  which  are  closed 
out  at  a  low  figure,  to  make  room  for  the  latest  style ;  and 
American  ladies,  who  sometimes  purchase  in  this  manner, 
rejoice,  on  arrival  in  their  own  country,  with  that  joy  which 
woman  only  knows  when  she  finds  she  has  about  the  first 
article  out  of  a  new  fashion,  and  that,  too,  bought  at  a 
bargain. 

It  is  a  good  plan  for  American  tourists,  who  have  any 
amount  of  purchases  to  make,  to  take  a  carriage  by  the  hour, 
and  the  banker's  clerk  or  commission  merchant  whom  they 
engage  to  accompany  them,  and  make  a  day  of  it.  It  will 
be  found  an  economy  of  time,  and  to  involve  far  less  vexation 
and  fatigue,  than  to  attempt  walking,  or  trusting  to  luck  to 
find  the  articles  desired.     An  American,  on  his  first  visit  to 


G00D-BY    TO   PARIS.  309 

Paris,  finds  so  many  things  to  attract  and  amuse  him,  and 
withal  meets  so  many  of  his  countrymen,  all  bent  upon 
having  a  good  time  there,  that  he  generally  overstays  the 
time  he  has  allotted  himself  in  the  gay  capital.  Once  there, 
in  its  whirl  of  pleasure  and  never-ending  kaleidoscopic 
changes  of  attractions,  amusements,  and  enjoyment,  time 
flits  by  rapidly ;  and  when  the  day  of  departure  comes,  many 
a  thoughtless  tourist  feels  that  he  has  not  half  seen  Paris. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Good-by  to  Paris,  for  we  are  on  the  road  to  Brussels,  in  a 
night  express  train,  swiftly  passing  through  Douai  and  Valen- 
ciennes, harassed,  bothered,  and  pestered  at  Quievran,  on 
the  frontier,  where  our  baggage  was  critically  inspected. 
Through  Valenciennes,  which  is  suggestive  of  lace  —  so  is 
Brussels  —  yes,  we  are  getting  into  the  lace  country.  But 
don't  imagine,  my  inexperienced  traveller,  that  the  names  of 
these  cities  are  pronounced,  or  even  spelled,  in  our  country 
(as  they  ought  to  be)  as  they  are  by  the  natives. 

In  Bruxelles  we  recognized  Brussels  easily  enough;  but 
who  would  ever  have  understood  Marines  to  be  what  we 
denominate  Mechlin,  or  have  known  when  he  reached  Aix 
la  Chapelle  by  the  German  conductor's  bellowing  out, 
"  Aachen  "  ?  And  I  could  well  excuse  an  American  friend, 
some  days  after,  when  we  reached  Antwerp,  who,  on  being 
told  he  was  at  Anvers,  said,  "  Confound  your  Anvers.  This 
must  be  the  wrong  train.     I  started  for  Antwerp." 

Why  should  not  the  names  of  foreign  cities  be  spelled  and 
pronounced,  in  English,  as  near  like  their  real  designation  as 
possible  ?  There  appears  to  be  no  rule.  Some  are,  some  are 
not.  Coin  is  not  a  great  change  from  Cologne,  but  who 
would  recognize  Munchen  for  Munich,  or  Wien  for  Vienna  ? 


810  A   DOG    SHOW. 

We  rattled  through  the  streets  of  Brussels  at  early  morn- 
ing, and,  passing  the  great  market  square,  saw  a  curious 
sight  in  the  side  streets  contiguous,  in  the  numerous  dog- 
teams  that  the  country  people  bring  their  produce  to  market 
with.  Old  dog  Tray  is  pretty  thoroughly  utilized  here ;  for 
while  the  market  square  was  a  Babel  of  voices,  from  bare- 
headed and  quaint-headdressed  women,  and  curious-jacketed 
and  breeched  peasants,  arranging  their  greens,  fruit,  and 
vegetables,  and  clamoring  with  early  purchasers,  their  teams, 
which  filled  the  side  streets,  were  taking  a  rest  after  their 
early  journey  from  the  country.  There  were  stout  mastiffs 
in  little  carts,  harnessed  complete,  like  horses,  except  blinders ; 
some  rough  fellows,  of  the  "  big  yellow-dog  "  breed,  tandem ; 
poor  little  curs,  two  abreast;  small  dogs,  big  dogs,  smart 
dogs,  and  cur  dogs,  each  attached  to  a  miniature  cart  that 
would  hold  from  two  pecks  to  three  bushels,  according  to  the 
strength  of  the  team ;  and  they  were  standing,  sitting,  and 
lying  in  all  the  varieties  of  dog  attitude  —  certainly  a  most 
comical  sight.  Some  time  afterwards,  while  travelling  in  the 
country,  I  met  a  fellow  riding  in  one  of  these  little  wagons, 
drawn  by  two  large  dogs  at  quite  a  tolerable  trot  (dog  trot), 
although  they  are  generally  used  only  to  draw  light  burdens, 
to  save  the  peasants'  shoulders  the  load. 

From  our  windows  at  the  Hotel  de  l'Europe  we  look  out 
upon  the  Place  Royale,  in  which  stands  the  handsome  eques- 
trian statue,  in  bronze,  of  that  stout  crusader,  Godfrey  de 
Bouillon,  who,  with  the  banner  of  the  cross  in  one  hand,  and 
falchion  aloft  in  the  other,  is,  as  he  might  have  rode  at 
the  siege  of  Jerusalem,  or  at  the  battle  of  Ascalon,  a  spirited 
and  martial  figure,  and  familiar  enough  to  us,  from  its  repro- 
duction in  little,  for  mantel  clocks.  We  visited  the  celebrated 
Hotel  de  Ville,  a  magnificent  old  Gothic  edifice,  all  points 
and  sculptures,  and  its  central  tower  shooting  up  three  hun- 
dred and  sixty-four  feet  in  height.  In  front  of  it  are  two 
finely  executed  statues  of  Counts  Egmont  and  Horn,  the 
Duke  of  Alva's  victims,  who  perished  here.  A  short  dis- 
tance from  here  is  a  little  statue  known  as  the  Manikin,  a 


CURIOUS    PICTORIAL   EFFECTS.  311 

curious  fountain  which  every  one  goes  to  see  on  account  of 
the  natural  way  it  plays,  and  which  on  some  fete  days  sends 
forth  red  wine,  which  the  common  people  flock  in  crowds  to 
bear  away,  with  much  merriment  at  the  source  of  supply. 

Besides  a  museum  of  paintings  in  Brussels,  which  con- 
tained several  fine  pictures  by  Rubens,  we  visited  a  gallery 
of  somewhat  remarkable  and  original  pictures  at  the  residence 
of  an  artist  (now  deceased)  named  Wiertz.  The  subjects 
chosen  were  singular,  and  so  was  the  original  manner  in 
which  they  were  treated.  One  represented  Napoleon  in  hell, 
surrounded  by  tormenting  demons,  with  flitting  visions  of 
the  horrors  of  war  and  carnage,  and  its  victims  upbraiding 
him ;  another,  a  huge  picture  of  a  struggle  of  giants  —  giv- 
ing the  best  idea  of  giants  possible,  it  seemed  to  me,  out- 
side of  the  children's  story-books.  Another  picture  was  so 
contrived  that  the  spectator  peeped  through  a  half-open  door, 
and  was  startled  at  beholding  what  he  supposed  to  be  a 
woman  with  but  a  single  garment,  gathered  shrinkingly  around 
her,  and  gazing  at  him  from  an  opposite  door,  which  she 
appeared  to  have  just  shrunk  behind  to  avoid  his  intrusion 
—  a  most  marvellous  cheat.  An  apparently  rough  sketch  of  a 
huge  frog,  viewed  through  an  aperture,  became  the  portrait  of 
a  French  general.  The  pictures  of  two  beautiful  girls  open- 
ing a  rude  window,  and  presenting  a  flower,  were  so  arranged 
that,  whatever  position  the  spectator  took,  they  were  still 
facing  him,  and  holding  out  their  floral  offerings.  An  aper- 
ture, like  that  of  a  cosmorama,  invited  you  to  look  through, 
when,  lo !  a  group,  clothed  in  arctic  costume,  and  one  more 
grotesque  than  the  rest  arrests  you ;  it  is  like  a  living  face ; 
the  eyes  wink;  it  moves!  You  start  back,  and  find  that  by 
some  clever  arrangement  of  a  looking-glass,  you  yourself  have 
been  supplying  the  face  of  the  figure. 

A  little  table,  standing  in  the  way,  bears  upon  it  an  easel, 
some  brushes,  a  red  herring,  and  other  incongruous  things, 
which  you  suppose  some  careless  visitors  to  have  left,  till  you 
discover  it  is  another  of  the  artist's  wonderful  deceptions.  I 
say  wonderful,  because  his  forte  seems  to  have  been  some  of 


312  CHUKCH   OF    ST.    GUDULE. 

the  .most  astonishing  practical  jokes  with  hrush  and  color 
that  can  possibly  be  imagined.  Some  would  absolutely  cheat 
the  spectator,  although  prepared  for  surprises,  and  excite  as 
much  laughter  as  a  well-told  story ;  and  others  would  have 
an  opposite  effect,  and  make  his  very  hair  almost  stand  erect 
with  terror.  One  of  the  latter  was  that  which  represented  a 
maniac  mother,  in  a  half-darkened  room,  cutting  up  one  of 
her  children  with  a  butcher  knife,  and  putting  the  remains 
into  a  pot  boiling  upon  the  fire.  The  spectator,  who  is  held 
to  this  dreadful  scene  by  a  sort  of  terrible  fascination,  dis- 
covers that  the  wild  woman  thinks  herself  secure  from  obser- 
vation, from  the  appearance  of  the  apartment,  the  windows 
and  even  key-hole  of  which  she  has  carefully  covered,  and 
that  he  himself  is  getting  a  view  from  an  unobserved  crevice. 
Although  the  subject  is  anything  but  a  ]}leasant  one,  yet  the 
rapid  beating  of  the  heart,  the  pallid  countenance,  and  invol- 
untary shudder  with  which  the  spectator  withdraws  from  the 
terrible  spectacle,  is  a  tribute  to  the  artist's  marvellous  skill. 

Brussels  is  divided  into  two  parts,  the  upper  and  lower 
city :  the  latter  is  crowded,  and  inhabited  principally  by  the 
poorer  and  laboring  classes,  and  contains  many  of  the  quaint 
old-fashioned  Dutch-looking  buildings  of  three  centuries  ago ; 
the  uj^perpart  of  the  city,  the  abode  of  the  richer  classes,  con- 
tains fine,  large,  open  squares  and  streets,  palace  gardens,  &c. 
In  one  of  the  latter  we  attended  a  very  fine  instrumental  con- 
cert, given  by  the  orchestra  of  the  Grand  Opera  —  admission 
ten  cents !  and  we  found  that  we  were  now  getting  towards 
the  country  where  good  music  was  a  drug,  and  we  could  get 
our  fill  at  a  very  reasonable  price,  with  the  most  agreeable 
surroundings. 

The  most  interesting  church  in  Brussels  is  the  splendid 
Cathedral  of  St.  Gudule,  founded  in  1010,  the  principal  won- 
ders of  which  are  its  magnificently-painted  windows,  —  one  an 
elaborate  affair,  representing  the  last  judgment,  the  other 
various  miracles  and  saints,  —  and  the  pulpit,  which  is  a  won- 
drous work  of  the  carver's  art.  Upon  it  is  a  group  represent- 
ing the  expulsion  of  Adam  and  Eve  from  the  garden  of  Eden ; 


OFFICIAL    CIRCUMLOCUTION.  313 

the  pulpit  itself  is  upheld  by  the  tree  of  knowledge,  and  high 
above  it  stands  the  Virgin  Mary,  holding  the  infant  Jesus, 
who  is  striking  at  the  serpent's  head  with  the  cross.  The  tra- 
cery of  the  foliage,  the  carving  of  the  figures,  and  ornamental 
work  are  beautifully  chiselled,  and  very  effectively  managed. 

Having  sent  a  trunk  on  before  me  to  Brussels,  I  had  an 
experience  of  the  apparently  utter  disregard  of  time  among 
Belgian  custom-house  officials;  and,  indeed,  of  that  slow, 
methodical,  won't-be-hurried,  handed-down-from-our-ancestors 
way  of  transacting  business,  that  drives  an  American  almost 
to  the  verge  of  distraction. 

My  experience  was  as  follows :  First,  application  was  made 
and  description  given ;  next,  I  was  sent  to  officer  number  two, 
who  copied  it  all  into  a  big  book,  kept  me  ten  minutes,  and 
charged  me  eight  cents ;  then  I  was  sent  to  another  clerk, 
who  made  out  a  fresh  paper,  kept  the  first,  and  consumed  ten 
or  fifteen  minutes  more ;  then  I  was  sent  back,  up  stairs,  to 
an  official,  for  his  signature  —  eight  cents  more  —  cheap  auto- 
graphs ;  then  to  another,  who  commenced  to  interrogate  me 
as  to  name,  where  I  was  staying,  my  nationality,  &c. ;  when, 
in  the  very  midst  of  his  interrogations,  the  hour  of  twelve 
struck,  and  he  pushed  back  the  paper,  with  "  Apres  dejeuner, 
monsieur"  shut  his  window-sash  with  a  bang,  and  the  whole 
custom-house  was  closed  for  one  hour,  in  the  very  middle  of 
the  day,  for  the  officials  to  go  to  lunch,  or  "  dejeuner  a  la 
fourchetteP 

Misery  loves  company.  An  irate  Englishman,  whose  prog- 
ress was  as  suddenly  checked  as  mine  had  been,  paced  up 
and  down  the  corridor,  swearing,  in  good  round  terms,  that  a 
man  should  have  to  wait  a  good  hour  for  a  change  of  linen, 
so  that  a  parcel  of  cursed  Dutchmen  could  fill  themselves 
with  beer  and  sausage.  But  remedy  there  was  none  till  tke 
lunch  hour  was  passed,  when  the  offices  were  reopened,  and 
the  wheels  of  business  once  more  began  their  slow  revolutions, 
and  our  luggage  was,  with  many  formalities,  withdrawn  from 
government  custody. 

"  When  you  are  on  the  continent  don't  quote  Byron,"  said 


314  "there  was  a  soustd  or  revelry." 

a  fiiend  at  parting,  who  had  been  '  over  the  ground ; '  "  that 
is,  if  possible  to  refrain ; "  and,  indeed,  as  all  young  ladies  and 
gentlemen  at  some  period  of  their  lives  have  read  the  poet's 
magnificent  romaunt  of  Childe  Harold,  the  qualification  which 
closed  the  injunction  was  significant.  Can  anybody  that  has 
any  spark  of  imagination  or  romance  in  his  composition  re- 
frain, as  scene  after  scene,  which  the  poet's  glorious  numbers 
have  made  familiar  in  his  mind,  presents  itself  in  reality  to 
his  sight?  We  visit  Brussels  chiefly  to  see  the  field  of 
Waterloo ;  and  as  we  stand  in  the  great  square  of  Belgium's 
capital,  we  remember  "  the  sound  of  revelry  by  night,"  and 
wonder  how  the  streets  looked  when  "then  and  there  was 
hurrying  to  and  fro,"  and  we  pictured  to  ourselves,  as  the 
moon  poured  down  her  silver  light  as  we  stood  there,  and 
flashed  her  beams  upon  the  windows  in  the  great  Gothic 
structures,  the  sudden  alarm  when  "  bright  the  lamps  shone 
o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men,"  and  how 

"the  steed, 
The  mustering  squadron,  and  the  clattering  car, 
Went  pouring  forward  with  impetuous  speed, 
And  swiftly  forming  in  the  ranks  of  war ;  " 

and  it  all  came  back  to  me  how  I  had  sing-songed  through 
extracts  from  Byron  in  my  school  readers  when  a  boy,  spouted 
the  words  of  the  Battle  of  Waterloo  at  school  exhibitions, 
and  sometimes  wondered  if  I  should  ever  visit  that  field 
where  Bonaparte  made  his  last  grand  struggle  for  the  empire. 
Yes,  we  should  feel  now  the  words  of  the  poet  as  we  ap- 
proached it —  "Stop!  for  thy  tread  is  on  an  empire's  dust." 
And  so  I  stood  musing,  and  repeating  the  poet's  lines,  sotto 
voce,  when  an  individual  approached,  and,  touching  his  hat, 
interrupted  my  musings. 

"Waterloo  to-morrow,  sir?" 

"Sir?" 

"  Would  you  like  to  visit  Waterloo  to-morrow,  sir  ?  Coach 
leaves  at  nine  in  the  morning  —  English  coach  and  six  — 
spanking  team  —  six  horses." 


AN   ENGLISH    STAGE    COACH.  315 

We  looked  at  this  individual  with  some  surprise,  which  he 
dissipated  as  follows  :  — 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir  —  agent  of  the  English  coach  company — 
always  wait  upon  strangers,  sir." 

We  took  outside  tickets  for  the  field  of  Waterloo  on  the 
English  coach. 

The  next  morning  dawned  hrightly,  and  at  the  appointed 
time  a  splendid  English  mail  coach,  with  a  spanking  team  of 
six  grays,  — just  such  a  one  as  we  have  seen  in  English  pic- 
tures, with  a  driver  handling  the  whip  and  ribbons  in  the  most 
approved  style,  —  dashed  into  the  Place  Royale,  and,  halting 
before  a  hotel  at  one  end,  the  guard  played  "  The  Campbells 
are  Comin' "  upon  a  bugle,  with  a  gusto  that  brought  all  the 
new  arrivals  to  the  windows ;  three  or  four  ladies  and  gentle- 
men mounted  to  the  coach-roof,  the  driver  cracked  his  whip, 
and  whirled  his  team  up  to  our  hotel,  while  the  uniformed 
guard  played  "  The  Bowld  Soger  Boy  "  under  the  very  nose 
of  old  Godfrey  de  Bouillon ;  and  we  clambered  up  to  the  out- 
side seats,  of  which  there  were  twelve,  to  the  inspiring  notes 
of  the  bugle,  which  made  the  quiet  old  square  echo  with  its 
martial  strains.  Away  we  rolled,  the  bugle  playing  its  mer- 
riest of  strains  ;  but  when  just  clear  of  the  city,  our  gay  per- 
former descended,  packed  his  instrument  into  a  green  baize 
bag,  deserted,  and  trudged  back,  leaving  us  only  the  music  of 
the  rattling  hoofs  and  wheels,  and  the  more  agreeable  strains 
of  laughter  of  half  a  dozen  lively  English  and  American  ladies. 

The  field  of  Waterloo  is  about  twelve  miles  from  Brussels ; 
the  ride,  of  a  pleasant  day,  behind  a  good  team,  a  delightful 
one :  we  pass  through  the  wood  of  Soignies,  over  a  broad, 
smooth  road,  in  excellent  order,  shaded  by  tall  trees  on  either 
side  —  this  was  Byron's  Ardennes. 

"Ardennes  waves  above  them  her  green  leaves." 

We  soon  reached  the  field,  which  has  been  so  often  described 
by  historians,  novelists,  and  letter-writers,  that  we  will  spare 
the  reader  the  infliction. 

We  are  met  by  guides  who  speak  French,  German,  and 


316  MARCH  OF  THE  OLD  GUARD. 

English,  who  have  bullets,  buttons,  and  other  relies  said  to 
have  been  picked  up  on  the  field,  but  which  a  waggish  Eng- 
lishman informed  us  were  manufactured  at  a  factory  near  by 
to  supply  the  demand.  The  guides,  old  and  young,  adapt 
their  sympathies  to  those  of  customers;  thus,  if  they  be  Eng- 
lish, it  is, — 

"  Here  is  where  the  brave  Wellington  stood ;  there  is  where 
we  beat  back  the  Old  Guard." 

Or,  if  they  be  French  or  Americans,  — 

"  There  is  where  the  great  Napoleon  directed  the  battle. 
The  Imperial  Guard  beat  all  before  them  to  this  point,"  &c. 

The  field  is  an  open,  undulating  plain,  intersected  by  two 
or  three  broad  roads ;  monuments  rise  here  and  there,  and 
conspicuous  on  the  field,  marking  the  thickest  of  the  fight, 
rises  the  huge  pyramidal  earth-mound  with  the  Belgian  Lion 
upon  its  summit. 

We  stroll  from  point  to  point  noted  in  the  terrible  strug- 
gle. Here  is  one  that  every  one  pauses  at  longest ;  it  is  a  long, 
low  ridge,  where  the  guards  lay  that  rose  at  Wellington's 
command,  and  poured  their  terrible  tempest  of  lead  into  the 
bosoms  of  the  Old  Guard.  We  walk  over  the  track  of  that 
devoted  band  of  brave  men,  who  marched  over  it  with  their 
whole  front  ranks  melting  before  the  terrific  fire  of  the  Eng- 
lish artillery  like  frost-work  before  the  sun,  grimly  closing  up 
and  marching  sternly  on,  receiving  the  fire  of  a  battery  in 
their  bosoms,  and  then  marching  right  on  over  gunners,  guns, 
and  all,  like  a  prairie  fire  sweeping  all  before  it  —  Ney,  the 
bravest  of  the  brave,  four  horses  shot  under  him,  his  coat 
pierced  with  balls,  on  foot  at  their  head,  waving  his  sword  on 
high,  and  encouraging  them  on,  till  they  reach  this  spot,  where 
the  last  terrible  tempest  beats  them  back,  annihilated.  Here, 
where  so  many  went  down  in  death,  — 

"  Rider  and  horse,  friend,  foe,  in  one  red  burial  blent," — 

now  waved  the  tall  yellow  grain,  and  the  red  poppies  that 
bloomed  among  it  reminded  us  of  the  crimson  tide  that  must 
have  reddened  the  turf  when  it  shook  beneath  the  thundei 
of  that  terrible  charge. 


FIELD    OF    WATERLOO.  317 

Let  us  pause  at  another  noted  spot ;  it  is  where  the  English 
squares  stood  with  such  firmness  that  French  artillery,  lancers, 
and  even  the  cuirassiers,  who  threw  themselves  forward  like 
an  iron  avalanche,  failed  to  break  them. 

We  come  to  the  chateau  of  Hougoumont,  which  sustained 
such  a  succession  of  desperate  attacks.  The  battle  began 
with  the  struggle  for  its  possession,  which  only  ended  on  the 
utter  defeat  of  the  French.  The  grounds  of  Hougoumont  are 
partially  surrounded  by  brick  walls,  which  were  loopholed 
for  musketry.  This  place,  at  the  time  of  the  battle,  was  a 
gentleman's  country-seat,  with  farm,  out-buildings,  walled 
garden,  private  chapel,  &c,  and  the  shattered  ruins,  which 
to  this  day  remain,  are  the  most  interesting  relics  of  the  bat- 
tle ;  the  wall  still  presents  its  loopholes ;  it  is  battered  as  with 
a  tempest  of  musket  balls. 

The  French  charged  up  to  the  very  muzzles  of  the  guns, 
and  endeavored  to  wrest  them  from  the  hands  of  those  who 
pushed  them  forth. 

Four  companies  of  English  held  this  place  for  seven  hours 
against  an  assaulting  army,  and  bullets  were  exhausted  in 
vain  against  its  wall-front,  before  which  fifteen  hundred  men 
fell  in  less  than  an  hour. 

There  are  breaches  in  the  wall,  cannon-shot  fractures  in 
the  barn  and  gate ;  the  little  chapel  is  scarred  with  bullets, 
fire,  and  axes,  and  a  fragment  of  brick  buildings  looks  like 
part  of  a  battered  fort.  Victor  Hugo's  "Les  Miserables" 
gives  a  most  vivid  and  truthful  description  of  this  little  por- 
tion of  the  battle-field,  and  of  the  desperate  struggle  and 
frightful  scenes  enacted  there,  serving  the  visitor  far  better 
than  any  of  the  guide-books. 

Passing  from  here,  we  go  out  into  the  orchard  —  scene  of 
another  deadly  and  dreadful  contest.  We  are  shown  where 
various  distinguished  officers  fell;  we  walk  over  the  spots 
that  Napoleon  and  Wellington  occupied  during  the  battle ; 
we  go  to  the  summit  of  the  great  mound  upon  which  stands 
the  Belgian  Lion,  and  from  it  are  pointed  out  the  distant 
wood  from  which  Wellington  saw  the  welcome  and  fresh 


318  BRUSSELS   LACE. 

columns  of  Blucher  emerge ;  we  pluck  a  little  flower  in  Hou- 
goumont's  garden,  and  a  full  and  nearly  ripened  blade  of 
grain  from  the  spot  where  the  Imperial  Guard  were  hurled 
back  by  their  English  adversaries,  pay  our  guide  three  francs 
each,  and  once  more  are  bowling  along  back  to  Brussels. 

Near  the  field  is  a  sort  of  museum  of  relics  kept  by  a  niece 
of  Sergeant  Major  Cotton,  who  was  in  the  battle,  which  con- 
tains many  interesting  and  well-attested  relics  found  upon 
the  field  years  ago.  There  are  rusty  swords,  that  flashed  in 
the  June  sunset  of  that  terrible  clay,  bayonets,  uniform  jack- 
ets and  hats,  buttons,  cannon  shot,  and  other  field  spoil,  and 
withal  books  and  photographs,  which  latter  articles  the  vol- 
uble old  lady  in  charge  was  anxious  to  dispose  of. 

Just  off  the  field,  —  at  the  village  of  Waterloo,  I  think,  — 
we  halt  at  the  house  in  which  Wellington  wrote  his  despatch 
announcing  the  victory.  Here  is  preserved,  under  a  glass  case, 
the  pencil  with  which  he  wrote  that  document.  The  boot  of 
the  Marquis  of  Anglesea,  who  suffered  amputation  of  his  leg 
here,  is  also  preserved  in  like  manner;  and  in  the  garden  is  a 
little  monument  erected  over  his  grace's  limb,  which  is  said 
to  be  buried  there. 

Did  we  buy  lace  in  Brussels  ?     Yes. 

And  the  great  lace  establishments  there  ? 

Well,  there  are  few,  if  any,  large  lace  shops  for  the  sale  of 
the  article.  Those  are  all  in  Paris,  which  is  the  great  market 
for  it.  Then,  it  will  be  remembered  that "  Brussels  lace  "  is  not 
a  very  rare  kind,  and  also  that  lace  is  an  article  of  merchan- 
dise that  is  not  bulky,  and  occupies  but  very  little  space.  In 
many  of  the  old  cities  on  the  continent,  shopkeepers  do  not 
believe  in  vast,  splendid,  and  elegantly-decorated  stores,  as 
we  do  in  America,  especially  those  who  have  a  reputation  in 
specialties  which  causes  purchasers  to  seek  them  out. 

Some  of  the  most  celebrated  lace  manufacturers  in  Brus- 
sels occupied  buildings  looking,  for  all  the  world,  like  a  good 
old-fashioned  Philadelphia  mansion,  with  its  broad  steps  and 
substantial  front  door,  the  latter  having  a  large  silver  plate 
with  the  owner's  name   inscribed  thereon.     A  good  speci- 


A    NOVICE   AT   LACE    BUYING.  319 

men  of  these  was  that  of  Julie  Everaert  and  sisters,  on  the 
Rue  Royale,  where,  after  ringing  the  front  door  bell,  we  were 
ushered  by  the  servant  into  a  sort  of  half  front  parlor,  half 
shop,  and  two  of  the  sisters,  two  stout,  elderly  Flemish  ladies, 
in  black  silk  dresses  and  lace  caps,  appeared  to  serve  us.  So 
polite,  so  quiet,  well-dressed  and  lady-like,  so  like  the  mild- 
voiced,  well-bred  ladies  of  the  old  school,  that  are  now  only 
occasionally  met  in  America,  at  the  soiree  and  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, and  who  seem  always  to  be  surrounded  by  a  sort 
of  halo  of  old-time  ceremony  and  politeness,  and  to  command 
a  deference  and  courtesy  by  their  very  presence  that  we  in- 
stinctively acknowledge  —  so  like,  that  we  began  to  fear  we 
had  made  some  mistake,  until  the  elder  and  stouter  of  the 
two,  after  the  usual  salutations,  inquired  in  French  if "  ma- 
dame  and  monsieur  would  do  them  the  honor  to  look  at 
laces." 

Madame  and  monsieur  were  agreeable,  and  chairs  were  ac- 
cordingly placed  before  a  table,  which  was  covered  by  a  sort 
of  black  velvet  comforter,  or  stuffed  table-cloth,  and  behind 
which  stood  a  tall  fire-proof  safe,  which,  being  opened  by  the 
servant,  displayed  numerous  drawers  and  compartments  like  to 
that  of  a  jeweller.  The  lace  dealer  commenced  an  exhibition 
of  the  treasures  of  the  iron  casket,  displaying  them  upon  the 
black  velvet  with  the  skill  of  an  expert,  her  quiet  little  ser- 
vant removing  such  as  were  least  favorable  in  our  eyes,  when 
the  table  became  crowded,  and  she  went  on,  as  each  specimen 
was  displayed,  something  as  follows :  — 

"Vingt  francs,  monsieur''''  (a  neat  little  collar). 

"  Cinquante  francs,  plus  joHe"  (I  expressed  admiration 
audibly). 

"  Cent  francs,  madame"  said  the  frau  Julie,  abandoning 
at  once  the  addressing  of  her  conversation  to  an  individual 
who  could  be  struck  with  the  beauty  of  a  fifty  franc  strip  of 
lace. 

"  Cent  cinquante  francs,  madame,  tres  recherche" 

"Deux  cent  francs.     Superbe,  madame? 

"Quatre  cent  francs.     Magnifique" 


320  ANTWERP. 

"  Eighty  dollars  for  that  mess  of  spider's  web ! "  exclaimed 
monsieur,  in  English,  to  his  companion.  "  Eighty  dollars ! 
The  price  is  magnifique." 

" He  is  varee  sheep  for  sush  dentelles"  says  the  old  lady,  in 
a  quiet  tone,  much  to  monsieur's  confusion  at  her  under- 
standing the  English  tongue ;  and  the  exhibition  went  on. 

How  much  we  sacrificed  at  that  black  velvet  altar  I  do  not 
care  to  mention;  but,  at  any  rate,  we  found  on  reaching 
America  that  the  prices  paid,  compared  with  those  asked  at 
home,  were  "  varee  sheep  for  sush  dentellesP 

Antwerp !  We  must  make  a  brief  pause  at  this  old  com- 
mercial city  on  the  Scheldt ;  and  as  we  ride  through  its  streets, 
we  see  the  quaint,  solid,  substantial  buildings  of  olden  times, 
their  curious  architecture  giving  a  sort  of  Dutch  artistic  air 
to  the  scene,  and  reminding  one  of  old  paintings  and  theatri- 
cal scenery.  -  One  evidence  of  the  commercial  importance  of 
Antwerp  is  seen  in  its  splendid  docks;  these  comprise  the 
two  docks  built  by  Bonaparte  when  he  made  the  port  one  of 
his  naval  arsenals,  which  are  splendid  specimens  of  masonry, 
the  walls  being  five  feet  in  thickness ;  then  the  Belgian  gov- 
ernment have  recently  completed  three  new  docks,  which,  in 
connection  with  the  old  ones,  embrace  an  area  of  over  fifty 
acres  of  water.  We  visited  several  of  the  dock-yards  here, 
and  were  astonished  at  the  vast  heaps  of  merchandise  they 
contained.  Still  further  improvements  that  are  being  made 
seem  to  completely  refute  the  assertion  that  all  the  commer- 
cial enterprise  of  Antwerp  has  departed.  Here,  for  instance, 
were  two  new  docks  in  progress  for  timber  and  petroleum 
exclusively,  which  enclose  seventeen  acres  of  water,  and  here 
we  saw  literally  enough  of  splendid  timber  for  a  navy.  I 
was  actually  staggered  by  the  heaps  of  every  kind  of  timber, 
from  all  parts  of  the  world,  that  was  piled  up  here,  while  the 
American  petroleum  was  heajjed  up  and  stored  in  warehouses 
the  size  of  a  cathedral,  suggesting  the  idea  of  a  tremendous 
illumination  should  fire  by  any  means  get  at  it,  which,  how- 
ever, is  guarded  against  very  strictly  by  dock-guards  and 
police. 


THE    CATHEDRAL    SPIRE.  321 

Then  there  are  three  new  and  spacious  dry  docks,  one  of 
which  is  the  largest  in  Europe,  being  nearly  five  hundred  feet 
long,  and  capable  of  holding  two  ships  at  a  time  of  one  thou- 
sand tons  register  each.  The  splendid  facilities  for  ships  of 
every  description,  and  for  the  landing  and  storage  of  merchan- 
dise, are  such  as  cannot  fail  to  excite  admiration  from  every 
American  merchant,  and  make  him  sigh  for  the  time  when  we 
may  have  similar  accommodations  in  the  great  seaports  in 
this  country.  There  were  huge  warehouses,  formed  by  two 
blocks  vis-a-vis,  with  a  glass  roof  covering  the  intermediate 
space,  and  a  double  rail  track  running  through  it,  affording 
opportunity  of  loading,  unloading,  and  sorting  merchandise 
in  all  weathers,  while  the  depth  of  the  "  lazy  old  Scheldt," 
directly  opposite  the  city,  is  sufficient  for  a  ship  drawing  thir- 
ty-two feet  of  water  to  ride  safely  at  anchor. 

The  magnificent  cathedral  spire  in  Antwerp  is  familiar  to 
almost  everybody  who  looks  into  the  windows  of  the  print 
shops  ;  and  we  climbed  far  up  into  it,  to  its  great  colony  of 
bells,  that  make  the  very  tower  reel  with  their  chimes.  Here, 
leaving  the  ladies,  our  motto  was,  Excelsior;  and  we  still  went 
onward  and  upward,  till,  amid  the  wrought  stone  that  seems 
the  lace-work  of  the  spire,  we  appeared  to  be  almost  swinging 
in  the  air,  far  above  the  earth,  as  in  a  gigantic  net,  and,  al- 
though safely  enclosed,  yet  the  apertures  and  open-work  were 
so  frequent  that  our  enthusiasm  was  not  very  expressive, 
however  deeply  it  might  have  been  felt  at  the  splendid  view, 
though  our  grasp  at  the  balusters  and  stone-work  was  of  the 
most  tenacious  character;  and,  in  truth,  the  climbing  of  a 
spire  of  about  four  hundred  feet  high  is  an  undertaking  easier 
read  about  than  practised. 

Inside  the  cathedral  we  saw  Rubens's  fine  pictures  of  the 
Elevation  and  the  Descent  from  the  Cross,  in  which  the  fig- 
ures are  given  with  such  wonderful  and  faithful  accuracy  as 
to  make  the  spectator  sigh  with  pity  at  the  painful  spectacle. 

The  interior  of  this  splendid  cathedral  is  grand  and  impos- 
ing; but  I  have  already,  in  these  pages,  employed  so  many 
adjectives  in  admiration  of  these  grand  old  buildings,  that  I 
21 


322  MUSIC   IN   ANTWERP. 

fear  repetition  in  the  attempt  to  give  anything  more  than  the 
dimensions  which  indicate  its  vast  extent,  which  are  five  hun- 
dred feet  long  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  wide.  In  front  of 
,  this  cathedral  is  an  iron  canopy,  or  specimen  of  iron  railing- 
work,  as  we  should  call  it ;  but  it  is  of  wrought  iron,  and  by 
the  hammer  and  skilful  hand  of  Quentin  Matsys.  . 

In  the  Church  of  St.  Jacques,  with  its  splendid  interior, 
rich  in  beautiful  carved  marble  and  balustrades,  we  stood  at 
the  tomb  of  Rubens,  who  is  buried  here,  and  saw  many  more 
of  his  pictures,  among  them  his  Holy  Family.  The  house 
where  he  died  is  in  a  street  named  after  him,  and  a  statue  of 
the  artist  graces  the  Place  Verte. 

Antwerp  rejoices  in  good  musical  entertainments.  The 
most  prominent  and  aristocratic  of  the  musical  societies  is 
that  known  as  the  "  Royal  Society  of  Harmony  of  Antwerp," 
who  own  a  beautiful  garden,  or  park,  at  which  their  out-of- 
door  concerts  are  given  during  the  summer  season.  None 
but  members  of  the  society  are  admitted  to  these  entertain- 
ments, except  visiting  friends  from  other  cities,  and  then  onl) 
by  approval  of  the  committee  of  managers. 

The  garden  is  quite  extensive,  and  is  beautifully  laid  out 
with  walks  beneath  shady  groves,  rustic  bridges  over  ponds 
and  streams,  gorgeous  plats,  and  parterres  of  flowers.  In  the 
centre  of  the  grounds  rises  an  ornamental  covered  stand  for 
the  orchestra ;  and  round  about,  beneath  the  shade  trees,  sit 
such  of  the  visitors  who  are  not  strolling  about,  eating  ices, 
drinking  light  wine  or  beer,  and  indulging  in  pipes  and  cigars. 
A  handsome  pavilion  affords  accommodation  in  case  of  bad 
weather,  and  the  expenses  are  defrayed  by  assessments  upon 
the  members  of  the  society. 

After  seeing  the  London  Zoological  Garden,  others  seem 
very  much  like  it;  and  that  in  Antwerp  is  nearest  the  London 
one,  in  the  excellence  of  its  arrangement  and  management, 
of  any  I  have  since  visited.  The  collection  is  quite  large,  and 
very  interesting. 

The  cabs  and  hackney  coaches  in  this  old  city  are  the  most 
atrocious  old  wrecks  we  have  ever  seen,  the  horses  apparently 


GETTING    INTO   A    SNAKL.  323 

on  their  last  legs,  and  the  drivers  a  seedy-looking  set  of  fel- 
lows, most  of  whom  understand  neither  English,  French,  nor 
German,  only  Flemish;  so  that  when  a  stranger  calls  a  "vigi- 
lante," which  is  the  title  of  these  turnouts,  it  is  well  to  have, 
the  assistance  of  a  native,  else  the  attempted  excursion  may 
end  in  an  inextricable  snarl  of  signs,  phrases,  and  gesticula- 
tions, "full  of  sound  and  fury,  and  signifying  nothing"  to 
either  party. 

I  believe  if  an  individual,  who  does  not  understand  German 
or  Flemish,  can  make  the  journey  from  Antwerp  to  Dussel- 
dorf  alone,  he  may  be  considered  competent  to  travel  all  over 
Europe  without  a  courier  or  interpreter.  The  conductors  or 
guards  of  the  train  appeared  to  understand  nothing  but  Ger- 
man and  Flemish.  The  changes  of  cars  were  numerous  and 
puzzling,  and  our  "Change-t-on  de  voiture  ici?"  and  "Ou  est  le 
convoi pour  Dusseldorf?"  were  aired  and  exercised  on  a  por- 
tion of  the  route  to  little  purpose.  Nevertheless,  we  did 
manage  to  blunder  through  safely  and  correctly,  by  dint  of 
showing  tickets,  and  being  directed  by  signs  and  motions,  and 
pushed  by  good-natured,  stupid  (?)  officials  from  one  train  to 
another ;  for  we  changed  cars  at  Aerschot,  then  at  Hasselt, 
then  again  at  Maestricht,  where  we  were  compelled  to  leave 
the  train,  and  have  all  small  parcels  examined  by  the  custom- 
house officials ;  then  at  Aix  la  Chapelle,  or  Aachen,  as  the 
Dutchmen  call  it,  we  had  to  submit  to  an  examination  of 
trunks,  all  passing  in  at  one  door  of  a  large  room  and  out  at 
another,  in  an  entirely  opposite  direction,  and  apparently  direct- 
ly away  from  the  train  we  had  just  left,  to  continue  our  jour- 
ney. I  never  shall  forget  the  jargon  of  Dutch,  French,  and 
English,  the  confusion  of  wardrobes  of  different  nationalities 
that  were  rudely  exposed  by  the  officers,  the  anathematizing 
of  obstinate  straps  that  would  not  come  unbuckled,  the  turn- 
ing out  of  pockets  to  search  for  missing  keys,  and  the  hasty 
cramming  back  of  the  contents  of  trunks,  —  for  the  train  was  a 
few  minutes  late, — that  imprinted  the  custom-house  station  of 
Aix  la  Chapelle  like  a  disagreeable  nightmare  on  my  memory. 

At  last  we  reached  Ober.  Cassel,  where  we  debarked,  took 


324  DUSSELDORF. 

seats  in  a  drosky,  as  they  call  cabs  here,  the  driver  of  which 
hailed  us  in  French,  which  really  sounded  almost  natural  after 
the  amount  of  guttural  German  we  had  experienced. 

Over  the  pontoon  bridge  that  spans  the  Rhine,  we  rode 
towards  Dusseldorf,  whose  lighted  windows  were  reflected 
upon  the  dark,  flowing  stream ;  and  we  were  soon  within  the 
hospitable  and  comfortable  hotel,  denominated  the  Breiden- 
bacher  Hof,  where  the  servants  spoke  French  and  English, 
and  we  forgot  the  perplexities  of  the  day  in  an  excellent  and 
well-served  supper. 

Dusseldorf  is  one  of  those  quiet,  sleepy  sort  of  towns  where 
there  is  little  or  no  excitement  beyond  music  in  the  Hofgarten, 
or  the  Prussian  soldiers  who  parade  the  streets ;  it  is  the  quiet 
and  pleasant  home  of  many  accomplished  artists,  whose  paint- 
ings and  whose  school  of  art  are  familiar  to  many  in  America, 
and  it  is  often  visited  by  American  tourists  for  the  purpose 
of  purchasing  pictures  from  the  easels  of  its  artists ;  indeed, 
the  guide-books  dignify  it  with  the  title  of  the  "  Cradle  of 
Rhenish  Art."  Americans  visiting  Dusseldorf  find  an  efii- 
cient  and  able  cicerone  in  Henry  Lewis,  Esq.,  the  American 
consul,  who,  from  his  long  residence  there,  and  being  him- 
self a  Dusseldorf  artist,  and  withal  a  member  of  their  associ- 
ations, and  having  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  artists  and 
artist  life,  is  a  gentleman  eminently  qualified  to  aid  our  coun- 
trymen in  their  purchases  of  pictures,  which  is  done  with  a 
disinterestedness  and  courtesy  that  have  won  for  him  the 
warmest  regards  of  Americans  who  have  visited  the  place. 

To  be  sure,  some  Americans,  with  very  queer  ideas  of  pro- 
priety in  pictures,  visit  Dusseldorf,  as  they  do  other  places 
in  Europe,  sometimes  mortifying  their  countrymen  by  their 
absurd  extravagances  of  conduct.  At  one  of  the  artists' 
exhibitions  a  fine  picture  was  pointed  out  to  me,  representing 
a  cavalier  who  had  just  returned  from  the  chase,  and  was  seated 
in  an  old  mediaeval  hall.  At  one  side,  in  the  painting,  was  a 
representation  of  a  fine,  wide,  high,  old,  ornamented  chimney- 
piece.  This  picture  attracted  the  attention  of  an  American, 
well-known  in  his  native  country  as  a  proprietor  of  patent 


DUSSELDORF   ARTISTS.  325 

medicines.  He  saw  nothing  in  the  rich  costume  and  color- 
ing of  the  cavalier's  dress,  the  fine  interior  of  the  old  mediaeval 
mansion ;  but  he  noticed  that  the  mantel  of  the  antique  fire- 
place was  empty.  Lucky  circumstance !  He  proposed  to  pur- 
chase the  picture  of  the  artist  on  condition  of  an  alteration, 
or  rather  addition,  being  made,  which  was  the  painting  in  of 
a  bottle  of  the  purchaser's  celebrated  syrup,  with  its  label  dis- 
tinctly visible,  to  be  represented  occupying  one  end  of  the 
mantel,  and  boxes  of  pills  and  ointment  (labels  visible)  oc- 
cupying the  other  end. 

To  his  credit  be  it  known,  the  artist  absolutely  refused  to 
commit  such  an  outrage,  notwithstanding  double  price  was 
offered  him  for  "the  job;"  and  the  glories  of  Blank's  pills 
continue  to  be  painted  in  printer's  ink,  and  not  the  artist's 
colors. 

Through  the  kind  courtesy  of  Mr.  Lewis,  we  were  enabled 
to  visit  the  studios  of  nearly  all  the  leading  artists  of  Dus- 
seldorf.  We  saw  the  fine  Swiss  scenery  of  Lindler,  the  life- 
like, quaint  old  burghers  and  Dutch  figures  of  Stammel,  the 
heavy  Dutch  horses  and  the  quiet,  natural,  rural,  and  road- 
side scenes  of  Hahn,  and  the  sharp,  bold  style  of  figure-paint- 
ing of  Stever,  rich  in  color  and  striking  in  expression  —  an 
artist  whose  pictures,  in  the  exhibition,  always  have  a  group 
of  spectators  about  them;  and  then  we  saw  Lewis's  own 
clever  landscapes  and  Swiss  mountain  scenes,  and  finally 
went  off  to  the  Dusseldorf  gallery,  where  we  saw  a  host  of 
original  sketches  and  drawings  by  the  most  celebrated  artists 
of  all  schools. 

One  thing  newly-arrived  Americans  quickly  learn  here, 
as  well  as  in  Rome  and  Florence;  and  that  is,  that  good 
pictures  command  good  prices :  they  may  be  obtained  at  a 
lower  figure  than  at  home,  yet  they  are  by  no  means  sacrificed 
for  a  song.  The  facilities  of  travel  are  now  so  great,  and 
Americans  and  English  with  money  to  spend  do  so  pervade 
the  continent,  that  the  opportunities  of  obtaining  really 
meritorious  works  of  art  at  a  very  low  price  in  Europe  are 
decreasing  every  day. 


326  COLOGNE. 

The  Prussian  soldiery  are  seen  everywhere  in  Dusseldorf : 
they  are  a  fine,  intellectual-looking  set  of  men,  not  very  tall, 
but  splendidly  drilled.  A  regiment  that  I  have  seen  pass, 
with  its  magnificent  military  band  at  its  head,  was  so  exact 
in  the  perpendicular  of  the  muskets  carried  by  the  men,  that 
I  verily  believe  a  plank  might  have  been  laid  upon  the  points- 
of  the  upright  bayonets,  and  it  would  have  been  found  a  true 
level. 

The  band  in  the  Hofgarten  plays  the  Strauss  waltzes  de- 
liciously.  The  shady  walks,  the  flower-beds,  the  pretty  vases 
and  fountains,  are  enchantingly  soothing  and  romantic  on  a 
summer's  evening,  under  the  influence  of  music,  Rhine  wine 
or  lager.  But  we  must  bid  adieu  to  old  Dusseldorf,  which 
we  leam,  with  some  surprise,  as  we  turn  our  back  upon  it  for 
the  city  of  perfumes  (Cologne),  to  be  a  town  of  fifty  thous- 
and inhabitants  —  a  fact  one  would  never  dream  of,  from  its 
lack  of  that  bustling  spirit  that  characterizes  an  American 
town  or  city  of  that  population. 

Now  for  the  "  castle-crowned  Rhine."  "We  leave  Dussel- 
dorf behind,  and  as  the  steamboat  journey  from  here  is  a 
somewhat  dull  and  uninteresting  one,  there  being  no  features 
of  natural  beauty  on  the  river  between  the  two  points,  we 
rattle  down  by  Cologne  and  Minden  Railway  in  about  an  hour 
and  a  half,  and  quarter  at  the  fine  Hotel  du  Nord,  at  Cologne, 
near  the  railway  bridge,  which  is  all  of  a  bustle  on  account 
of  the  arrival  of  the  King  of  Sweden  and  suite;  and  some  of 
the  blue-eyed,  golden-haired  blondes  of  that  "  suite  "  we  had 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  occasionally,  as  we  passed  in  or  out, 
would  have  been  "  all  the  rage  "  in  America,  could  they  have 
been  transplanted  to  that  country. 

Cologne,  the  oldest  town  on  the  Rhine,  is  built  with  long, 
winding,  semicircular,  narrow  streets,  along  the  river.  It  is 
now  the  capital  of  Rhenish  Prussia,  and  appears  to  be  a 
strongly  fortified  place,  being  surrounded  by  strong,  high 
walls.  A  bridge  of  boats  and  a  stone  bridge  span  the  Rhine 
from  Cologne  to  a  little  town  called  Deutz,  opposite,  and 
the  city  seems  to  have  considerable  business  activity.    Be- 


COLOGNE    CATHEDRAL.  327 

fore  one  ever  sees  the  city,  his  impressions  are,  that  its  chief 
article  of  commerce  and  manufacture  is  cologne  water ;  and 
that  impression  is  strengthened  on  arrival,  for  about  every 
other  store,  especially  those  in  the  square  about  the  cathe- 
dra], claims  to  be  '■'■the  original  Jean  Antoine  Marie  Farina." 
The  competition  in  this  matter  is  ridiculous,  and  even  laugh- 
able ;  and  the  Farinas  are  so  numerous,  and  opinion  is  so 
divided  respecting  the  original,  that  it  is  said  if  you  purchase 
of  either  one  you  will  wish  you  had  bought  of  another. 

The  cathedral  at  Cologne,  grand  and  majestic  in  its  pro- 
portions, rich  in  ornament,  and  considered  among  lovers  of 
architecture  a  masterpiece  among  existing  Gothic  buildings, 
was  commenced  in  1248,  and,  though  more  than  six  centuries 
have  passed,  is  still  unfinished,  and  the  name  of  the  architect 
who  planned  the  original  designs  of  the  structure  unknown 
to  the  world. 

The  sight  of  this  great  cathedral,  that  has  been  in  process 
of  construction  for  so  many  centuries,  sometimes  nearly  aban- 
doned to  ruin,  and  then  again  carried  forward  by  builders 
with  new  zeal,  till  at  last  the  original  designs  were  forgotten, 
and  men  proceeded  to  work  on  at  an  apparently  endless  task, 
—  the  style  of  work  here  and  there  marking  the  age  in  which 
it  was  wrought,  —  was  strikingly  suggestive  of  the  vanity 
of  human  aspirations.  It  also  brought  to  mind  that  almost 
forgotten  old  German  legend  respecting  a  compact  between 
the  original  architect  of  this  cathedral,  I  think,  and  his  Satanic 
Majesty,  in  which  the  former  some  way  outwitted  the  latter, 
who,  in  revenge,  caused  him  to  be  killed  by  a  fall  from  the 
tower  bearing  the  well-known  derrick  so  familiar  in  all  the 
pictures  on  the  cologne-bottle  labels.  His  Sulphuric  High- 
ness, in  the  story,  also  vowed  that  the  edifice  should  never  be 
completed,  and  that  the  architect's  name  should  be  forgotten 
by  men.  , 

The  fiendish  promise  appears  to  have  been  faithfully  kept, 
although,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  averred  by  some  American 
travellers  that  the  building  is  kept  unfinished  to  extract  con- 
tributions from  the  faithful  to  complete  it,  and  thereby  fur- 


328  VAST   EXPENDITURE. 

nish  builders,  workmen,  and  contractors  with  work ;  indeed,  a 
New  York  man  was  struck  with  the  bright  idea  that  it  would 
be  to  get  the  Prussian  government  to  undertake  it,  and  let 
the  job  out  to  contractors,  and  he  knew  that  the  builders  of 
the  new  City  Hall  in  New  York  would  undertake  it,  and 
spend  time  and  money  enough  over  it,  and  in  a  manner  that 
would  astonish  the  old  church  builders  of  Europe. 

The  cathedral  stands  on  a  slight  elevation,  some  fifty  or 
sixty  feet  above  the  Rhine,  upon  a  portion  of  the  old  Roman 
camp-ground,  where  the  soldiers  of  Agrippina,  the  mother  of 
Nero,  rested  after  war's  alarms,  and  watched  the  flow  of  the 
winding  river  at  their  feet.  Countless  sums  of  money  have 
been  lavished  upon  the  building,  and  centuries  of  labor. 
Guilty  monarchs,  and  men  whose  hearts  have  reeked  with 
sin,  have  bestowed  wealth  upon  it,  in  the  hope  to  buy  absolu- 
tion for  their  crimes  with  the  same  dross  that  had  purchased 
so  many  of  the  world's  coveted  pleasures.  In  1816,  forty- 
eight  thousand  pounds  were  expended  on  it,  and  between 
1842  and  1864  over  three  hundred  thousand  pounds  were  laid 
out.  The  great  southern  portal,  which  is  two  hundred  and 
twenty  feet  high,  cost  alone  one  hundred  and  five  thousand 
pounds.  Some  idea  of  the  vastness  of  the  cathedral  may  be 
had  from  the  figures  representing  its  dimensions.  The  inte- 
rior is  four  hundred  and  thirty  feet  long  and  one  hundred  and 
forty  broad ;  the  transept  two  hundred  and  thirty-four  feet 
long,  and  the  choir  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  in  height.  The 
part  which  is  appropriated  for  divine  service  occupies  an  area 
of  seventy  thousand  square  feet. 

We  strolled  round  this  stupendous  old  building,  and  after 
shaking  off  the  guides  and  valets  de  place,  who  proffered  their 
services,  the  agents  of  cologne-water  houses  in  the  vicinity, 
and  the  venders  of  books,  stereoscopic  views  and  pictures  of 
it,  and  even  a  monkish  old  fellow  who  came  out  of  one  of  the 
side  doors,  and  rattled  a  money-box  for  subscriptions  for  the 
workmen,  proceeded  to  have  a  look  at  it  in  our  own  way. 
There  stood  out  the  old  derrick,  or  crane,  an  iron  arm  fifty 
feet  long,  that  has  projected  from  one  of  the  towers,  which  is 


WONDEES   OF   THE    BUILDING.  329 

one  hundred  and  ninety  feet  high,  for  four  hundred  years, 
probably  in  waiting  to  assist  in  completing  the  remaining  two 
hundred  and  eighty-six  feet,  the  projected  height  being  four 
hundred  and  seventy-six.  The  Gothic  arches,  canopies,  but- 
tresses, and  tracery,  with  statues  of  the  apostles  and  saints, 
are  bewildering  in  detail  and  number.  In  one  ornamental 
arch  is  a  relief  containing  no  less  than  seventy  different  fig- 
ures, and  another  has  fifty-eight  small  canopies  wrought  in  it. 
In  fact,  the  building  seems  to  be  a  monument  of  stone-cutters' 
skill,  as  well  as  an  exemplification  of  the  detail  of  Gothic 
architecture ;  and  you  may  mark  that  which  is  crumbling  to 
decay  beneath  the  unsparing  tooth  of  time,  and  on  the  same 
edifice  that  which,  sharp  and  fresh,  but  yesterday  left  the 
sculptor's  chisel;  and  so  the  work  goes  on.  The  central  tower 
and  iron  frame-work  of  the  roof  of  the  body  of  the  church 
and  transept  Avere  only  completed  in  1861,  and  the  interior  of 
the  church  since  1863,  that  is,  if  the  interior  can  be  said  ever 
to  be  completed,  with  workmen  continually  finishing  it. 

To  get  inside  we  find  that  a  series  of  tickets  must  be  pur- 
chased of  the  custodian  who  guards  the  entrance  at  the  tran- 
sept. These  paid  for,  we  proceeded,  under  the  pilotage  of  a 
good-natured,  though  not  over-clean  churchman,  to  the  various 
points  of  interest  in  the  vast  interior.  We  had  the  same 
beautiful  view  of  Gothic  arches  and  cluster  pillars  that  form 
so  grand  a  perspective  in  these  cathedrals.  We  counted  fifty- 
six  pillars  in  all.  Tbose  of  the  nave  were  one  hundred  and 
six  feet  in  height,  and  of  the  side  aisles  forty-five.  The  seven 
chapels  are  rich  in  pictures,  decorated  altars,  and  relics.  The 
most  celebrated  is  that  known  as  the  Chapel  of  the  Three 
Magi,  in  which  was  a  gorgeous  crystal  casket,  protected  by  a 
cover  richly  ornamented  and  set  with  precious  stones.  When 
this  was  reverently  removed,  we  beheld  the  tops  of  three  hu- 
man skulls,  circled  with  golden  crowns,  which  our  conductor 
gravely  informed  us  were  the  skulls  of  Caspar,  Melchoir,  and 
Balthazar,  the  Three  Magi,  or  Wise  Men  of  the  East,  who 
figured  at  the  adoration  of  our  Saviour. 

One  can  hardly  repress  a  smile  at  such  assertions,  made  in 


330  EICHES    OF   THE    CHUECH. 

the  nineteenth  century,  by  a  man  who  has  had  the  advan- 
tages of  education,  as  our  priestly  guide  evidently  had ;  but 
the  serious  manner  in  which  he  imparted  his  information,  and 
to  our  doubting  comments  pointed  to  the  names  set  in  rubies, 
and  assured  us  that  the  relics  were  presented  in  the  twelfth 
century  by  the  Emperor  Frederic  Barbarossa,  and  that  he  had 
not  time  now  to  question  historical  facts,  disposed  of  the  sub- 
ject in  our  case.  So,  at  the  Church  of  St.  Ursula  here,  where 
the  bones  of  eleven  thousand  virgins  (!),  who  were  murdered 
in  Cologne  on  their  return  from  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  are 
shown.  The  unbelieving  Thomases  of  the  Protestant  faith 
try  the  patience  of  the  pious  custodian  sadly  by  their  irrever- 
ent questions  and  disrespectful  remarks. 

In  the  great  sacristy  and  treasury  of  the  cathedral  we 
saw  a  rich  collection  of  magnificent  vestments  for  priests, 
bishops,  and  other  church  officials,  costly  gold  and  silver 
chalices,  cruets,  fonts,  goblets,  church  vessels,  &c.  Among 
these  were  several  splendid  "  monstrances,"  or  a  sort  of  frame- 
work, in  which  the  consecrated  wafer,  or  host,  is  held  up  to 
view  before  the  congregation  in  Roman  Catholic  churches. 
One  of  these  was  of  silver,  weighing  eight  pounds  and  a  half, 
adorned  with  rubies  and  diamonds,  with  a  superb  diamond 
cross  hanging  from  it,  and  around  it  a  collar  of  turquoises, 
amethysts,  and  sapphires ;  there  was  another  of  solid  silver, 
much  heavier,  the  gift  of  Pope  Pius  IX.,  and  still  a  third, 
which  far  outshone  all  the  rest  in  magnificence.  This  last 
was  a  foot  and  a  half  in  height,  was  of  solid  gold,  and  weighed 
ten  pounds  and  two  ounces ;  it  was  studded  with  large  jewels, 
and  the  gold  beautifully  enamelled.  The  cylindrical  sjDace  for 
enclosing  the  host  measured  four  and  a  half  inches  in  diame- 
ter, and  is  cut  out  of  a  piece  of  mountain  crystal.  The  value 
of  this  monstrance  is  immense,  and  it  is  only  used  on  great 
holidays,  and  carried  in  procession  but  once  a  year  —  Corpus 
Christi,  the  next  Thursday  after  Trinity  Sunday. 

The  cabinets  in  this  treasury  were  rich  indeed  with  mate- 
rial wealth  of  the  cathedral ;  and  our  priestly  guide  took  a 
pride,  in  displaying  it,  furnishing  me  many  facts  for  my  note- 


THE    LABOR   OF    CENTURIES.  331 

book  not  down  in  the  guide-books,  and  anxious  that  we  should 
have  a  correct  idea  of  the  wealth  of  the  Church.  Two  splen- 
did silver  censers,  weighing  nine  pounds  each,  were  shown 
us ;  next  came  a  great  crucifix  of  polished  ebony  and  silver,  a 
gold  and  enamelled  flower^  set  with  precious  stones,  an  en- 
amelled painting  of  the  Crucifixion  surrounded  by  diamonds, 
rubies,  and  pearls,  a  cross  and  ring  worn  by  the  archbishop  at 
every  pontifical  service,  magnificent  ornaments  set  with  dia- 
monds and  pearls,  and  valued  at  twenty-five  hundred  jDOunds 
sterling ;  then  there  were  splendid  reliquaries,  richly  set  with 
jewels,  some  said  to  contain  portions  of  the  true  cross;  splen- 
did crosiers,  one  of  ivory  and  crystal,  of  ancient  workman- 
ship ;  crosses,  silver  busts,  carved  ivory  figures,  and  the  splen- 
did silver  shrine  of  St.  Engelbert,  weighing  one  hundred  and 
forty-nine  pounds,  and  adorned  with  bass-reliefs  and  numerous 
small  statuettes  —  a  most  valuable  piece  of  plate,  and  curious 
work  of  art,  made  in  the  year  1635. 

From  this  rich  storehouse  of  gold,  silver,  and  jewels  we 
passed  out  once  more  into  the  body  of  the  cathedral,  where 
ragged  women  or  poverty-stricken  men,\with  hunger  in  their 
cheeks,  knelt  on  the  pavement  to  tell  a  string  of  beads,  or 
mutter  a  prayer  or  two,  and  then  rise  and  follow  us  into  the 
street  to  beg  a  few  groschen,  or,  as  we  passed,  to  be  solicited 
by  an  individual,  who  had  charge  of  a  rattling  money-box,  for 
a  contribution  towards  the  completion  of  the  church. 

Nearly  two  hundred  workmen  are  at  work  upon  the  Co- 
logne Cathedral,  renewing  that  Avhich  has  crumbled  from  de- 
cay and  time,  and  completing  that  which  is  still  unfinished. 
A  good  idea  of  its  magnitude  can  be  obtained  by  a  tour  of 
the  galleries.  Access  is  had  to  these  by  a  flight  of  steps  in 
one  of  the  great  pillars.  One  hundred  and  one  steps  —  I 
counted  them  as  we  went  up  —  carry  the  visitor  to  a  gallery 
which  extends  across  the  transept.  Up  thirty-six  steps  more, 
and  you  reach  another  gallery  running  around  the  whole 
building,  in  a  tour  of  which  you  may  study  the  details  of  the 
architecture,  and  also  have  a  fine  view  of  the  town,  and  a 
beautiful  one  of  the  Rhine,  and  the  lovely  surrounding  land- 
scape. 


332  ROOF   OF   THE    CATHEDRAL. 

There  is  a  gallery  corresponding  to  this  on  the  interior  of 
the  building,  which  affords  the  visitor  an  equally  good  oppor- 
tunity to  observe  the  interior  decorations  and  architectural 
features.  You  mount  ninety-eight  steps  more,  and  reach  a 
third  gallery,  which  runs  around  the  entire  roof  of  the 
cathedral,  a  distance  of  sixteen  hundred  feet.  Here  the 
panorama  is  more  extended  and  beautiful.  You  see  the  river 
winding:  on  its  course  far  in  the  distance.  Below  are  the 
semicircular  streets,  the  bridges  of  stone  and  of  boats,  the 
numerous  little  water  craft  dotting  the  stream,  and  on  every 
side  the  lovely  landscape,  fresh  and  verdant  in  the  summer 
sunlight.  Above  us,  on  the  roof,  or  ridge-pole,  runs  an  orna- 
mental gilt  crest,  looking  like  spikes  from  below,  but  really  a 
string  of  gilt  spires,  nearly  five  feet  in  height,  while  the  great 
cross  above  is  twenty-seven  feet  high,  and  weighs  thirteen 
hundred  and  eighty-eight  pounds.  From  this  gallery  we 
passed  in  through  a  little  door  under  the  roofing,  and 
above  the  vaulted  arches  of  the  interior,  to  an  opening  which 
was  surrounded  by  a  railing.  Through  this  opening  the  spec- 
tator has  an  opportunity  of  looking  to  the  interior  beneath 
him,  and  has  a  view  directly  downwards  to  the  pavement,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  below. 

The  middle  steeple  is  yet  to  be  ascended.  This  is  strongly 
built  of  iron,  and  ninety-four  steps  more  carry  us  up  to  the 
highest  point  of  ascent  —  three  hundred  and  twenty-nine 
steps  in  all.  The  star  which  surmounts  the  steeple  above  us 
is  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  from  the  pavement.  A  glance 
below  at  the  cathedral  shows  the  form  of  its  ground  plan, 
and  the  landscape  view  extends  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach. 

Cologne  is  not  an  over-clean  city,  and  we  were  not  sorry  to 
embark  on  the  dampschift,  as  they  call  the  little  Rhine  steam- 
boat, for  our  trip  to  Mayence.  These  little  steamers,  with 
their  awning-shaded  decks,  upon  which  you  may  sit  and  dine, 
or  enjoy  the  pure  light  wines  of  the  country,  —  which  nevei 
taste  so  well  anywhere  else, — and  view  the  romantic  and  beau- 
tiful scenery  upon  the  banks  of  this  historic  river  as  you  glide 
along,  afford  a  most  delightful  mode  of  transit,  and  one  which 


UP    THE   KHINE.  333 

we  most  thoroughly  enjoyed,  the  weather  being  charming, 
and  the  boat  we  were  upon  an  excellent  one,  and  not  crowded 
with  passengers. 

The  great  Cathedral  of  Cologne,  a  conspicuous  landmark, 
and  the  high  arches  of  the  railroad  bridge,  gradually  disap- 
pear as  we  steam  away  up  the  river,  looking  on  either  side  at 
the  pleasant  views,  till  the  steeple  and  residences  of  Bonn 
greet  us,  after  a  two  hours'  sail.  Here  we  make  a  landing, 
near  the  Grand  Hotel  Royal,  a  beautiful  hotel,  and  charm- 
ingly situated.  Facing  the  river,  its.  two  wings  extend  from 
the  main  body  of  the  house,  enclosing  a  spacious  garden, 
which  stretches  down  to  the  river  banks,  and  is  tastefully 
laid  out  Avith  winding  walks,  rustic  arbors,  and  flower-beds. 
From  its  garden  and  windows  you  may  gaze  upon  the  charm- 
ing panorama  of  the  river,  with  the  peaks  of  the  Seven 
Mountains  rising  in  the  distance,  and  the  Castle  of  Godesburg 
on  its  lofty  peak,  near  the  river. 

But  our  little  steamer  fumes  and  fusses  at  its  landing-place, 
eager  to  depart ;  so  we  step  on  board,  and  it  steams  once 
more  out  against  the  curling  current  between  the  hills  of 
Rhineland.  The  scenery  now  becomes  more  varied  and 
interesting;  pleasant  little  roads  wind  off  in  the  distance 
amid  the  hills ;  a  chapel  is  perched  here  and  there,  and  ever 
and  anon  we  meet  some  big,  flat-bottomed  boat  floating  idly 
down  the  stream,  loaded  with  produce,  with  a  heavy,  loose- 
jacketed,  broad-leaf-hatted  German  lounging  in  the  stern, 
smoking  a  painted  or  ornamented  pipe,  and  you  think  of  the 
pictures  you  have  so  often  stared  at  in  the  windows  of  the 
print  shops. 

We  begin  to  note  the  vineyards  on  the  sloping  banks,  the 
vines  on  sticks  four  or  five  feet  high,  and  sometimes  in  what 
appears  to  be  unpromising  looking  ground. 

We  pass  various  little  towns  with  unpronounceable  names, 
such  as  Niederdollendorf,  for  instance.  We  make  occasional 
landings,  and  take  on  board  women  with  queer  head-dresses, 
and  coarse,  black,  short  dresses,  stout  shoes,  and  worsted 
stockings,  and  men  with  many-buttoned  jackets,  holiday  vel- 


334  "the  castle-crowned  kheste." 

vet  vests,  painted  porcelain  pipes,  and  heavy,  hob-nailed 
shoes ;  children  in  short,  blue,  coarse  jean,  and  wooden  shoes, 
all  of  whom  occupy  a  jDosition  on  the  lower  forward  deck, 
among  the  light  freight  —  chiefly  provisions  and  household 
movables  —  that  the  steamer  carries.  The  shores  begjin  to 
show  a  background  of  hills;  the  Seven  Mountains  are  in 
•new,  and  Drachenfels  (Dragon's  Rock),  with  its  castle 
perched  eight  hundred  and  fifty-five  feet  above  the  river,  on 
its  vine-clad  height,  realizes  one's  ideas  of  those  ancient  cas- 
tles where  the  old  robber  chieftains  of  the  middle  ages  estab- 
lished themselves,  and  from  these  strongholds  issued  on  their 
freebooting  expeditions,  or  watched  the  river  for  passing 
crafts,  from  which  to  exact  tribute.  The  scenery  about  here 
is  lovely ;  the  little  villages  on  the  banks,  the  vine-clad  hills, 
little  Gothic  churches,  the  winding  river,  and  the  highlands 
swelling  blue  in  the  distance,  all  fill  out  a  charming  picture. 

Still  we  glide  along,  and  the  arched  ruin  of  Rolandseck,  on 
its  hill  three  hundred  and  forty  feet  above  the  river,  appears 
in  view.  A  single  arch  of  the  castle  alone  remains  darklv 
printed  against  the  sky,  and,  like  all  Rhine  castles,  it  has  its 
romantic  story,  which  you  read  from  your  guide-book  as  you 
glide  along  the  river,  or  hear  told  by  some  dreamy  tourist, 
who  has  the  romance  in  him,  which  the  sight  of  these  crum- 
bling old  relics  of  the  past  excites.  And  he  tells  you  how 
Roland,  a  brave  crusader  of  Charlemagne's  army,  left  his 
lady  love  near  this  place,  when  he  answered  the  summons  of 
the  monarch  to  the  Holy  Land ;  how  the  lady,  after  his  pro- 
longed absence,  heard  that  he  was  dead,  and  betook  herself 
to  a  convent  on  the  picturesque  little  island  of  Nonnenworth ; 
how  the  bold  crusader,  who  had  not  been  killed,  hastened 
back  on  the  wings  of  love,  eager  to  claim  his  bride  after  his 
long  absence,  and  found  her  in  the  relentless  clutch  of  a  con- 
vent ;  how,  in  despair,  he  built  this  castle,  which  commanded 
a  view  of  the  cloisters,  where  he  could  hear  the  sound  of  the 
convent  bell,  and  occasionally  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  fair  form 
that  he  knew  full  well,  passing  to  her  devotions ;  how,  at  last, 
she  came  no  more,  but  the  tolling  bell  and  nuns'  procession 


PICTURESQUE    SCENERY.  335 

told  him  that  she  whom  he  loved  was  dead ;  and  how,  from 
that  moment,  the  knight  spoke  no  more,  but  died  heart-broken, 
his  last  cnze  turned  towards  the  convent  where  his  love  had 
died ;  and  all  that  remains  of  the  knightly  lover's  castle  is  the 
solitary  wall  that  lifts  its  ruined  arch  distinct  against  the 
dark-blue  sky. 

We  pass  the  little  island  of  Nonnenworth ;  and  the  nun 
nery  is  still  upon  it,  founded  far  back  in  the  eleventh  century, 
but  rebuilt  in  the  fifteenth,  and  suppressed  by  Napoleon  in 
1802,  and  now  a  sort  of  school  under  the  management  of  Fran- 
ciscan nuns.  The  view  about  here,  looking  down  the  river, 
is  romantic  and  beautiful.  On  one  side,  on  the  more  level 
country,  lie  several  small  villages;  then,  down  along  the 
banks  of  the  river,  rise  the  rugged  cliffs,  the  ruined  castles  of 
Rolandseck  and  Drachenfels  crowning  two  jutting  points  of 
the  hills,  and  in  the  distance,  mellowed  by  the  haze,  the 
peaks  of  the  hills  known  as  the  Seven  Mountains,  and  Lo wen- 
berg  peak,  crowned  with  a  crumbling  ruin,  rise  to  view, 
which,  with  the  little  island  and  its  convent  for  a  foreground, 
form  a  charming  picture. 

We  sail  along,  and  make  another  landing  for  passengers  at 
Remagen.  Opposite  Remagen  we  see  a  huge  cliff,  which 
rises  nearly  six  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  river,  and  is 
profitable,  as  well  as  picturesque,  for  it  is  a  stone  quarry,  the 
product  of  which  can  be  placed  directly  into  the  river  craft 
at  its  base.  The  Rhine  now  describes  a  long  curve,  as  we 
approach  Nieder-Breisig.  A  little  village  called  Duttenberg 
is  wedged  in  between  the  hills,  on  a  little  river  that  empties 
into  the  Rhine,  and,  as  we  pass  it,  the  tall,  round,  stone 
towers  of  Arenfels  come  in  view.  Then  we  reach  Nieder- 
Breisig,  and  opposite  is  Rheineck,  with  its  modern-built 
tower  crowning  the  height.  Then  we  come  to  the  two  Ham- 
mersteins,  with  their  vineyards  and  castle,  and  then  the  pic- 
turesque old  town  of  Andernach  heaves  in  sight,  with  its  tall 
watch-tower  overlooking  the  river.  Then  come  Kaltenen- 
gens  and  others,  which  I  at  last  became  tired  of  noting  down, 
and  enjoyed  the  afternoon  sunset  that  was  softening  the  vine- 


336  BRIDGE    OF   BOATS. 

clad  slopes,  and  lighting  up  the  arches  and  windows  of  each 
ruined  castle,  chapel,  or  watch-tower  that  was  sure  to  crown 
every  conspicuous  eminence,  until,  at  last,  our  little  steamer 
rounded  in  at  the  pier  at  Cohlentz,  with  its  fine  hotels  strung 
along  near  the  river  bank,  and  the  Gibraltar  of  the  Rhine, 
the  grim  old  Castle  of  Ehrenbreitstein,  looking  down  on  us 
from  its  rocky  eminence  on  the  opposite  shore. 

Coblentz,  the  guide-books  tell  us,  is  a  famous  stopping-place 
for  tourists  on  the  Rhine,  between  Cologne  and  Mayence, 
being  equi-distant  from  both.  It  is  certainly  a  capital  half- 
way resting-place,  and,  however  pleasing  the  steamboat  trip 
may  have  been,  the  traveller  can  but  enjoy  the  change  to  one 
of  the  clean,  well-kept  hotels  at  this  beautiful  situation. 

The  hotel  agents  were  at  the  pier,  —  spoke  English  and 
French  fluently,  —  and  we  were  soon  installed  into  the  pleas- 
antest  of  rooms,  commanding  a  view  of  the  river,  whose 
swiftly-flowing  current  rolls  not  fifty  paces  distant.  A  bridge 
of  boats  spans  it,  and  high  above  the  river  bank  rises  the  old 
castle,  upon  the  battlements  of  which  I  can  see  the  glitter  of 
the  sentinels'  bayonets  in  the  summer  sunset. 

The  bridge  of  boats,  and  the  passengers  who  cross  it,  are 
a  never-ceasing  source  of  entertainment  to  us ;  soldiers  and 
elegantly-dressed  officers  from  the  castle ;  country  girls,  with 
curious  head-dresses ;  and  now  and  then  a  holiday-rigged 
peasant;  costermongers'  carts  and  dog-teams  —  one,  consist- 
ing of  three  big  dogs  abreast,  came  over  at  full  gallop,  the 
driver,  a  boy,  cracking  his  whip,  and  the  whole  team  barking 
furiously.  We  saw  a  whole  regiment  of  Prussian  infantry, 
armed  with  the  Prussian  needle-gun,  march  over  from  the 
castle  —  a  fine  body  of  men,  and  headed  by  a  band  of  forty 
pieces,  playing  in  a  style  that  would  make  the  military  enthu- 
siasm, if  the  listener  possessed  any,  tingle  to  the  very  soles 
of  his  feet.  When  steamboats  or  other  craft  desire  to  pass 
this  floating  bridge,  a  section  is  detached,  —  a  sort  of  floating 
"draw,"  —  and  suffered  to  swing  out  with  the  stream;  the 
steamer  passes  the  gap ;  after  which  the  detached  section  is 
pulled  back  to  position  again. 


ENJOYING    TIIE    RHINE.  337 

Right  at  tills  charming  bend  of  the  river,  on  one  side  of 
the  town,  flows  the  Moselle,  as  we  call  it,  but  Mode,  as  you 
learn  to  pronounce  it  in  Europe  —  the  blue  Moselle.  "  On 
the  banks  of  the  blue  Moselle,"  ran  the  old  song ;  and  as  pic- 
turesque and  poetical  a  river  as  can  be  imagined  is  the  Mo- 
selle, with  its  arched  bridge  spanning  it,  and  its  sparkling 
stream  winding  through  a  lovely  landscape ;  but  the  portion 
of  Cobleutz  that  borders  on  its  bank  is  poor  and  dirty,  and 
in  striking  contrast  with  the  elegant  buildings  and  bright 
appearance*  of  the  Rhine  front  of  the  town :  the  "  blue  "  of  the 
Moselle  refuses  to  mix  with  the  more  turbid  glacier-tinted 
Rhine,  and  for  a  long  distance  down  the  stream  this  blue 
makes  itself  visible  and  distinct  from  the  Rhine  water,  till 
gradually  absorbed  by  it. 

We  are  now  beginning  to  come  to  those  charming  hotels 
on  the  great  lines  of  continental  travel  routes,  which  in  Ger- 
many and  Switzerland  are  not  the  least  attractive  features 
of  the  tour.  Here  at  Coblentz  I  enjoy  excellent  accommo- 
dations, room  fresh  and  fragrant,  with  clean  linen,  spotless 
curtains,  and  not  a  speck  of  dust  visible,  my  windows  com- 
manding the  charming  Rhine  panorama,  waiters  speaking 
French,  German,  and  English,  a  Avell-served  table  cVhote,  and 
.all  for  less  than  half  the  price  charged  in  America. 

The  wine-drinkers  here,  from  America,  are  in  ecstasies,  for 
we  appear  to  be  at  headquarters  for  the  light  Rhine  wines  of 
the  country ;  two  francs  buy  a  bottle  costing  one  dollar  and 
twenty-five  cents  at  home,  and  five  francs  such  as  cannot  be 
got  in  America  for  three  dollars.  The  sparkling  Moselle  and 
celebrated  Johannisberger  are  to  be  had  here  in  perfection, 
and  the  newly-arrived  American  is  not  long  in  ascertaining 
what  a  different  thing  the  same  brand  of  wune  is  in  this  coun- 
try from  what  it  is  at  home. 

"Ah,  if  we  had  wune  like  this  at  home,  how  I  should  like 
to  have  it  oftener ! "  have  I  heard  frequently  said  by  travellers. 
It  is  too  true  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  get  pure  (im- 
ported) wines  and  liquors,  pay  what  price  one  may  in  Amer- 
ica ;  and  perhaps  one  reason  why  the  light  wines  of  Germany 
22 


338  COBLENTZ   AND   EHKENBREITSTEIN. 

are  so  agreeable  to  the  tourist's  palate,  is  in  the  surroundings 
and  the  time  they  are  taken,  such  as  on  the  deck  of  a  Rhine 
steamer,  at  the  top  of  a  steep  crag,  in  a  picturesque  old  castle, 
in  a  German  garden,  where  a  capital  orchestra  makes  the 
very  atmosphere  luxuriant  with  Strauss  waltzes  and  Gungl 
galops,  or  at  the  gay  table  d'hote  with  pleasure-seeking  tour- 
ists, who,  like  himself,  are  only  studying  how  to  enjoy  them- 
selves, recounting  past  pleasure  jaunts,  or  planning  new  ones. 

However,  be  this  as  it  may,  it  is,  I  believe,  acknowledged 
that  the  only  place  to  get  the  Rhine  wines  is  in  Rhineland ; 
and  the  difference  between  them  and  the  compounds  fur- 
nished in  America  is  obvious  to  the  dullest  taste.  The  purest 
and  most  reliable  wines  now  in  our  own  country  are  the 
California  and  other  native  wines,  although  they  are  not  so 
fashionable  as  the  doctored  foreign,  and  imitation  of  foreign, 
that  are  palmed  off  as  genuine. 

As  I  looked  from  my  windows  over  the  river  and  up  at 
the  fortress  of  Ehrenbreitstein,  seated  on  its  rocky  perch 
three  hundred  and  seventy-seven  feet  above  the  river,  and 
the  eye  caught  the  occasional  glitter  of  a  weapon,  or  the  ear 
the  faint  rattle  of  a  drum,  or  the  sound  of  the  bugle  call, 
softened  by  the  distance,  I  found  myself  repeating  fragments 
of  Byron's  Childe  Harold. 

"  Here  Ehrenbreitstein  with  her  shattered  wall, 
Black  with  the  miner's  blast  upon  her  height, 
Yet  shows  of  what  she  was  when  shell  and  ball 
Rebounding  lightly  on  her  strength  did  light." 

"  A  tower  of  victory "  it  is  indeed,  for  it  has  only  twice 
been  taken  by  an  enemy  during  the  best  part  of  a  thou- 
sand years  —  once  by  stratagem,  and  once  being  reduced  by 
famine. 

We  crossed  the  bridge  of  boats,  which  is  fourteen  hundred 
and  ten  feet  long,  got  tickets  of  admission  to  the  fortress 
in  the  little  town  of  Ehrenbreitstein  the  other  side,  mounted 
with  labor  up  the  steep  ascent,  and  as  we  came  within  view 
>of  these  tremendous  works,  upon  which  money  and  engineer- 


RHINE    PANORAMA.  339 

ing  skill  seem  to  have  been  expended  without  stint,  we  did 
not  wonder  at  their  impregnability,  or  that  they  excite  so 
much  admiration  among  the  military  engineers  of  the  world. 
From  the  ramparts  we  enjoyed  a  magnificent  view  of  the 
whole  river  and  the  country  between  Andernach  and  Stol- 
zenfels.  Below  us  was  triangular-shaped  Coblentz,  and  its 
row  of  handsome  buildings  facing  the  River  Rhine,  the  bridge 
of  boats  and  never-ending  moving  diorama  sort  of  scene, 
while  at  the  right  of  the  town  glided  the  blue  Moselle,  its 
azure  waters  moving  unmixed  as  they  flowed  along  with  the 
Rhine,  and  the  railroad  bridge  spanning  the  stream  with  its 
graceful  arches ;  beyond  that  the  fortifications  of  Fort  Franz, 
commanding  the  river  and  vicinity ;  and  far  off  to  the  right 
of  that  a  fertile  plain  towards  Andernach,  the  scene  of  Caesar's 
first  passage  of  the  Rhine,  B.  C.  55,  and  of  the  sieges  of  the 
thirty  years  war,  in  1631  to  1660,  and  the  bloody  campaigns 
of  Louis  XIV. 

Farther  to  our  left,  and  near  the  junction  of  the  two  rivers, 
we  observed  the  Church  of  St.  Castor,  built  in  1208 ;  and  it 
was  in  a  small  square  near  this  church,  in  one  of  our  walks 
about  the  town,  that  we  came  to  a  little  monument,  raised 
by  a  French  official  at  the  commencement  of  the  campaign 
against  Russia,  bearing  this  inscription :  — 

"Made  memorable  by  the  campaign  against  the  Russians,  under  the 
prefecturate  of  Jules  Doazan,  1812." 

When  the  Russian  general  entered  the  town,  he  added 
these  words,  which  still  remain  :  — 

"  Seen  and  approved  by  the  Russian  commander  of  the  city  of  Coblentz, 

January  1,  1814." 

A  delightful  afternoon  ride,  in  an  open  carriage,  along  the 
river  bank  for  three  or  four  miles,  brought  us  to  the  foot  of 
the  ascent  leading  to  the  castle  of  Stolzenfels,  which  looks 
down  upon  the  river  from  a  rocky  eminence  about  four  hun- 
dred feet  above  it.  Refusing  the  proffers  of  donkeys  or  chaise 
a  porter  for  the  ladies,  we  determined  to  make  the  ascent 


340  STOLZENFELS. 

on  foot,  and  very  soon  found  that  the  "  guides,"  donkeys,  and 
portable  chairs  were  "  a  weak  invention  of  the  enemy,"  for 
the  road,  although  winding,  was  broad,  easy,  and  delightfully 
shady  and  romantic.  We  passed  an  old  Roman  mile-stone 
on  the  road,  and  after  crossing  a  drawbridge,  reached  the 
royal  castle. 

This  most  beautifully  restored  relic  of  the  middle  ages  was, 
in  1802,  a  ruin  of  a  castle  of  five  hundred  years  before;  in 
1823  it  was  partially  restored,  and  since  then  has  been  com- 
pletely rebuilt  and  beautified  at  a  cost  of  fifty-three  thousand 
pounds  sterling.  Everything  is  in  good  proportion,  Stolzen- 
fels  being  somewhat  of  a  miniature  castle,  its  great  banquet 
hall  scarcely  double  the  size  of  a  good-sized  drawing-room ;  but 
its  whole  interior  and  exterior  are  a  model  of  exquisite  taste. 
It  has  its  little  castle  court-yard,  its  beautifully  contrived  plat- 
form overlooking;  the  Rhine,  its  watch-towers  and  its  turrets, 
all  undersized,  but  in  exact  proportions.  Through  the  tower 
windows,  which  are  wreathed  with  ivy ;  from  the  windows  of 
little  boudoirs  of  rooms,  which  were  cabinets  of  rare  china 
and  exquisite  cabinet  paintings  ;  from  embrasures  in  galleries 
and  halls  which  had  exquisite  statuettes,  instead  of  large  size 
statues ;  from  little  Gothic  windows  in  the  chapel ;  and,  in  fact, 
from  every  conceivable  and  most  unexpected  point  was  the 
visitor  encountering  different  lovely  framed  views,  as  it  were, 
of  the  natural  scenery  of  the  country.  These  outlooks  were 
so  skilfully  contrived  as  each  to  give  a  different  view,  and  as 
at  this  point  of  the  Rhine  is  the  narrowest  and  mostromantio 
part  of  the  valley,  the  views  are  of  the  most  enchanting  de- 
scription. 

Looking  out  of  an  ivy-wreathed  window  of  Stolzenfels,  the 
spectator  would  see,  framed,  as  it  were,  in  stone-work  and 
green  leaves,  a  picture  of  the  river,  with  its  boats  and  bridges ; 
through  another,  or  an  embrasure,  a  square-framed  picture  of 
an  elevation  on  the  opposite  bank,  crowned  by  a  pilgrims' 
chapel,  while  from  the  watch-tower  you  look  down  upon  the 
lovely  valley  of  the  River  Lahn,  which  near  this  point  flows 
into  the  Rhine ;  and  from  another  turret  we  look  back  upon 


LAND    OF   THE    VINE.  341 

the  massy  walls  of  Ehrenbreitstein,  Coblentz,  w  ith  the  apex 
of  its  triangle  pointing  out  into  the  stream,  and  behind  its 
base  the  strong  walls  of  Fort  Constantine,  marked  ont  like 
stone  lines  on  the  greensward.  The  apartments  in  this  castle 
are  exquisitely  furnished,  and  the  furniture,  tapestry,  pic- 
tures, and  statues  adapted  to  harmonize  with  their  size,  which 
is  fairy-like  in  comparison  with  castles  generally. 
\  In  one  hall  were  a  series  of  beautiful  frescoes  of  chivalric 
scenes  —  Godfrey  de  Bouillon  at  the  Holy  Sepulchre;  John 
of  Bohemia  at  the  Battle  of  Cressy;  Rudolph  of  Hapsburg 
judging  knightly  robbers,  &c.  There  was  a  beautiful  little 
chapel  with  elegant  frescoes.  In  the  armory  were  specimens 
of  light  and  curious  armor,  among  which  were  swords  of 
Napoleon,  Blucher,  and  Murat,  specimens  of  exquisite  Toledo 
blades,  arabesque  ornamented  daggers,  exquisitely  wrought 
and  flexible  chain-mail  shirts,  and  other  curiosities  of  defen- 
sive armor.  In  the  different  rooms  through  which  we  were 
conducted,  among  other  works  of  the  old  masters,  were 
cabinet  pictures  by  Holbein,  Titian,  Van  Dyck,  Albert  Diirer, 
Rembrandt,  &c.  The  charming  views  of  the  surrounding 
scenery  without,  and  the  exquisite  taste  displayed  on  the 
interior  of  this  royal  castle,  made  us  regret  to  leave  its  little 
leaf-clad  turrets,  fairy-like  watch-towers,  romantic  terraces, 
and  picturesque  battlements  ;  and  we  believed  the  custodian 
when  he  averred  that  Queen  Victoria  was  charmed  with  the 
place  when  she  visited  it  a  few  years  since,  for  it  was  fit  to 
charm  even  a  queen  with  its  beauty. 

Once  more  we  are  steaming  up  the  river,  and  Stolzenfels  is 
left  behind  '  us,  and  the  towers  of  Lahneck  come  in  sight,  a 
feudal  castle  restored  by  a  wealthy  Englishman,  and  which 
occupies  a  crag  above  the  River  Lahn ;  we  pass  little  white 
villages  nestled  at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  and  looking  far  inland, 
see  the  slopes  bristling  with  vineyards ;  we  are  in  the  land  of 
the  vine.  Next  comes  another  great  castle,  Marksburg,  frown 
ing  from  its  rocky  height  four  hundred  and  eighty  feet  above 
the  stream,  and  we  lazily  inspect  it  by  the  aid  of  a  double 
field-glass,  as  we  lie  at  full  length  on  a  settee,  beneath  the 


S42  LEGENDAKY    CASTLES. 

steamer's  awning,  and,  on  inquiry,  find  that  after  being  an 
old  feudal  castle,  and  bearing  its  weight  of  half  a  thousand 
years  bravely,  it  has  been  degraded  into  a  states  prison! 
The  little  town  near  the  river,  an  old  watch-tower,  a  road 
winding  off  amid  the  hills  for  a  foreground,  and  this  old  castle 
high  above  as  the  background,  forms  so  charming  a  picture, 
that  one  wishes  it  might,  by  some  magic  process,  be  trans- 
ferred to  canvas,  that  he  could  carry  it  away,  and  show  it  to 
others  as  it  appeared  to  him.  Farther  on  we  pass  the  little 
castle  of  Liebeneck ;  then  comes  Bopj)ard,  where,  in  feudal 
times,  once  existed  an  establishment  of  the  Knights  Tem- 
plars. Next  we  sweep  round  a  great  angle  or  elbow  of  the 
river,  and  there  come  in  sight  of  a  little  village,  with  a  Gothic 
church  of  the  fifteenth  century,  behind  and  high  above  it,  the 
two  castles  known  as  "  the  Brothers,"  connected  with  each 
other  by  a  narrow  natural  bridge  of  rock. 

These  two  castles  have  a  legend,  as  in  fact  nearly  all  the 
Rhine  castles  have,  and  half  the  charm  of  one's  trip  consists 
in  having  them  told  to  you  at  the  right  time,  or  recalling  the 
half-forgotten  story  of  boyhood  piecemeal  with  some  com- 
pagnon  de  voyage.  The  story  of  these  castles  is  familiar, 
and  is  of  two  brothers  loving  the  same  lady,  of  faithlessness, 
of  jealousy;  and  finally  the  lady  in  the  case,  with  the  delight- 
fully German  romantic  name  of  Hildegarde,  retires  to  the 
convent  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  —  that  is  the  way  they  always 
do  in  these  Rhine  legends;  it  brings  the  convent  into  the 
story,  and,  perhaps,  excites  a  desire  on  the  part  of  the  tourist 
to  see  the  cell  occupied  by  the  fair  penitent,  without  suspect- 
ing that  the  exhibition  may  prove  something  more  of  a  sell 
than  he  bargained  for.  "Well,  the  lady  retired,  the  two 
brothers  were  reconciled,  and  lived  ever  after  in  one  castle, 
instead  of  two. 

More  quaint  little  villages,  other  ruined  castles !  Thurnberg, 
the  "Mouse"  tower,  looms  up,  with  its  square,  shattered 
walls,  and  round  tower,  rising  from  their  midst  against  the 
sky  as  we  sweep  by  it;  and  St.  Goar,  a  conspicuous-looking 
town,  comes  in  view,  with  the  huge  ruins  of  Rheinfels,  three 


BHINE    ROMANCES.  348 

hundred  and  seventy  feet  above  it,  the  most  magnificent 
ruin  on  the  river,  a  second  Ehrenbreitstein  in  strength,  and 
which  has  laughed  one  siege  of  fifteen  months  to  scorn  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  in  1G92  was  again  defended  success- 
fully against  an  army  of  twenty-four  thousand  men,  but 
blown  up  by  the  French  revolutionary  army  of  1794.  It  is 
now  simply  a  picturesque  ruin  on  its  rocky  eminence,  with 
the  railway  track  creeping  around  its  base ;  below  the  track, 
nearer  the  river,  winds  the  carriage-road  to  the  town. 

The  Mouse,  or  Maus  Tower,  which  we  passed  before 
reaching  Rheinfels,  was  so  called  by  the  envious  counts  of 
Katzenelnbogen  (there's  a  name  to  write),  wdio  named  their 
own  castle,  near  here,  the  Cat  (Katz) ;  but  the  story  goes 
that  the  mouse  and  its  stout  old  warrior  were  more  than  a 
match  for  the  cat;  in  fact,  he  was  so  feared  in  his  day  that  the 
proverb  was  reversed,  and  when  the  mouse  was  away  the 
cat  would  play. 

Now  we  reach  the  precipitous  rocks  known  as  the  "  Lur- 
lei "  crags,  towering  four  hundred  and  twenty  feet  above  the 
river,  which  flows  swiftly  down  their  base;  and  here  was 
where  Lurlei,  the  siren,  sat  and  chanted  her  songs,  which 
lured  fishermen,  knights,  and  sailors  to  their  destruction  in 
the  rapids  that  whirled  beneath  her  lofty  and  romantic  seat. 
As  we  passed  we  heard  no  siren's  song,  but  our  ears  were 
saluted  with  the  shrill  whistle  of  that  practical  chanter  of  the 
advance  of  civilization,  the  locomotive,  that  rushed  through  a 
tunnel,  piercing  the  very  base  of  the  magic  rock,  and  whirling 
out  of  sight  with  a  shriek  that  made  the  hills  echo  like  the 
scream  of  u,  demon,  leaving  an  angry  puff  of  smoke  issuing 
from  the  rocky  orifice,  as  if  the  fiend  had  vanished  from  the 
surface  to  the  centre. 

Now  we  pass  Oberwesel,  with  its  romantic  ravines,  pictu- 
resque vineyards,  and  old  ruins  of  Castle  Schonburg ;  farther 
on,  on  the  opposite  bank,  the  grand  old  castle  of  Gutenfels 
stands  guard  over  the  town  beneath  it ;  then  comes  that  little 
hexagonal  castle,  or  stone  fortification,  on  an  island,  looking 
as  though  anchored  in  mid  stream,  known  as  the  Pfalz;  it 


344  riCTUEESQUE    BEAUTY. 

was  erected  in  the  thirteenth  century,  as  a  toll-house  for  ex- 
acting tribute,  and  has  served,  if  not  as  a  prison,  as  a  place 
of  royal  confinement  —  tradition  being  that  the  Countesses 
Palatine  remained  here  during  their  accouchements.  We 
wind  round  a  point,  and  the  Castle  of  Stahleck,  once  the  prin- 
cipal residence  of  the  Counts  Palatine,  makes  its  appearance; 
then  come  the  ruins  of  Fiirstenburg,  once  the  stronghold  of 
an  old  robber,  who  was  bold  enough  to  fire  into  the  emperor's 
boat  that  refused  to  pay  toll  as  it  passed ;  the  stream  now 
narrows  perceptibly,  and  a  little  slender  tower,  perched  like  a 
sentinel  on  watch  on  its  walls,  at  a  narrow  ravine,  attracts 
attention ;  it  is  Sooneck,  and  was  a  robbers'  stronghold  in  the 
eleventh  century. 

Now  we  sweep  round  another  bend  in  the  river,  and  come 
in  sight  of  the  lofty  pinnacles,  turrets,  and  towers  of  the 
beautiful  Castle  of  Rheinstein,  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
above  the  river,  completely  restored,  the  banner  floating  in 
the  breeze  from  its  topmost  tower,  and  a  basket  suspended 
upon  an  iron  crane  from  one  of  the  towers  towards  the  river ; 
the  whole  shows  the  tourist  just  how  these  old  strongholds 
used  to  look  during  the  middle  ages,  and  a  party  of  ladies, 
far  up  in  a  little  ivy-clad  bower,  at  an  angle  of  the  castle 
terrace,  exchanged  greetings  with  us  in  handkerchief  wavings 
as  we  passed. 

Now  wTe  come  to  Ehrenfels,  and  the  vineyards  where  the 
Riidesheimer  grapes  are  raised ;  these  vineyards  are  arrayed 
in  terraces,  one  above  the  other,  and  the  banks  all  along 
on  the  side  of  the  hill,  upheld  by  arches  of  masonry,  and 
brick  and  stone  supports,  put  up  apparently  to  keep  the 
earth  in  place,  and  afford  more  space  for  the  vines  from  which 
the  celebrated  vintage  is  obtained.  At  this  point,  on  a  rock, 
in  mid  stream,  stands  the  well-known  Mouse  Tower,  cele- 
brated in  Southey's  legend  as  the  retreat  of  Bishop  Hatto, 
who  sought  to  escape  the  rats  by  fleeing  to  it;  but  his  ene- 
mies swam  the  stream,  entered  the  stronghold,  and 

"  Whetted  their  teeth  against  the  stones, 
And  then  they  picked  the  bishop's  bones." 


"BINGEN   ON   THE   RHINE."  345 

Bingen  would  never  have  attracted  so  much  attention  froni 
Americans  and  Englishmen  if  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Norton,  I  think 
it  was,  had  not  written  her  beautiful  poem  of  the  dying 
soldier,  who  was  a  native  of  the  place,  and  whose  last  words 
to  the  comrade  who  knelt  by  his  side  on  the  field  of  battle, 
were  his  memories  of  "  Sweet  Bingen,  dear  Bingen  on  the 
Rhine,"  and  sent  messages  home  to  his  friends  who  lived  at 

"Bingen  on  the  Rhine." 

For  no  other  reason  than  because  they  had  read  this  poem 
and  wished  to  see  Bingen,  that  had  been  so  charmingly 
written  about,  did  a  party  of  Americans  land  here ;  and  in 
truth  the  little  town  was  prettily  situated,  with  a  little  river  at 
one  side  of  it,  the  Nahe,  flowing  into  the  Rhine,  spanned  by 
an  old  arched  bridge,  while  its  slender  spires  and  white  houses 
look  forth  upon  the  swift-flowing  river,  divided  by  the  little 
island  bearing  the  Mouse  Tower,  and  upon  the  steep  slopes  of 
vineyards  on  the  other  side  of  the  Rhine,  backed  by  the  old 
Castle  of  Ehrenfels. 

After  leaving  Bingen  we  come  to  the  square-looking  old 
Castle  of  Bromserburg,  its  shattered  turrets  green  with  vines 
and  weeds,  and  farther  on,  other  old  ruins,  "  whose  names  I 
noted  not,"  except  one  little  church,  that  stood  out  like  a 
white  toy,  away  up  on  a  sharp  point  of  the  hills ;  and  then  T 
was  sorry  I  attempted  to  note  it,  for  the  Prussian,  who  spoke 
English,  Avas  compelled  to  write  the  name  for  me,  it  being  an 
absolute  impossibility  for  me  to  do  so  correctly,  according  to 
the  pronunciation  of  the  country;  so  I  will  leave  Rochus- 
capelle,  raid  the  bright-looking  little  villages  that  we  pass,  for 
the  old  castle,  Johannisberg,  which  greets  our  view  on  its 
vine-clad  eminence,  three  hundred  and  forty  feet  above  the 
river. 

The  vineyards  which  circle  round  and  about  the  great  hill 
surmounted  by  this  castle  are  said  to  cover  forty  acres  of 
ground,  and  it  is  here  that  the  celebrated  Jo-hannis-bagger 
—  as  they  pronounce  it  —  wine  is  made. 

This  Johannisberg  vineyard  is  situated  in  the  district,  about 


346  ROMAN   REMAINS. 

fifteen  miles  in  length,  celebrated  as  producing  the  finest 
wines  of  the  Rhine.  There  are  Rudesheim,  Hosheim,  Hatten- 
heim,  the  Steinberger,  Graffenberg,  and  many  other  "heims" 
and  "  bergs,"  whose  mellowness  and  flavor,  which  is  more  or 
less  injured  by  travel,  may  be  enjoyed  here  by  wine-drinkers, 
in  their  perfection,  at  a  comparatively  moderate  cost. 

Now  we  pass  two  or  three  islands,  with  unpronounceable 
names,  more  white-walled  towns,  backed  by  castle  ruins,  or 
handsome  country  residences  and  well-kept  vineyards,  with 
their  serried  rows  of  vines  rising  terrace  above  ten-ace  on  the 
hill-sides.  Here  come  the  ancient,  quaint  little  village  of 
Niederwalluf,  known  in  record  as  far  back  as  the  year  770, 
Schierstein  embosomed  in  trees,  and  Biebrich  with  its  ducal 
palace,  splendid  garden,  and  park;  we  glide  between  two 
islands,  and  come  in  sight  of  the  triple  line  of  fortifications 
and  cathedral  steeples  of  Mayence. 

Mayence,  which  claims  to  be  the  place  where  the  Emperor 
Constantine  saw  his  vision  of  the  cross,  which  is  the  strongest 
fortress  in  the  German  confederation,  which  was  founded  B.  C. 
14  by  the  Romans,  and  where  they  show  you  the  remains  of 
a  Roman  acqueduct,  a  Roman  burial-ground,  and  the  site  of 
the  Roman  camp,  and,  in  the  walls  of  the  citadel,  a  monu- 
ment erected  by  two  of  the  Roman  legions  in  honor  of  their 
commander-in-chief,  Drusus,  more  than  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago,  an  aged-looking,  gray,  circular  tower,  forty  feet  in 
height, — Mayence,  with  its  bridge  of  boats,  two  thousand  two 
hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  length,  and  Mayence,  which  is 
the  end  of  our  journey  up  the  Rhine. 

We  expected,  from  travellers'  stories,  to  have  been  disap- 
pointed with  the  Rhine,  and  were  —  favorably  disappointed. 
The  succession  of  natural  beauties  of  its  scenery,  the  historic 
interest  attached  to  almost  every  foot  of  the  course  between 
Cologne  and  Mayence,  the  novelty  to  American  eyes  of  the 
romantic  ruins  that  crown  the  picturesque  heights,  the  smil- 
ing vineyards,  quaint  little  towns,  odd  churches,  prim  watch- 
towers,  Gothic  cathedrals,  white-walled  cities,  and  boat- 
bridges,  of  course  lend  a  charm  to  this  beautiful  river,  and, 


MAYENCE.  347 

notwithstanding  my  national  pride,  I  cannot  agree  with  some 
of  my  countrymen,  who  assert  that  the  Hudson  River  is  as 
rich  in  picturesque  scenery  as  the  Rhine,  "  leaving  the  castles 
out."  The  river  scenery  in  America,  that  in  character  most 
resembles  that  of  the  Rhine,  is  the  Upper  Mississippi,  between 
Prairie  du  Chien  and  St.  Paul,  and  there  some  of  the  remark- 
able natural  formations  of  the  limestone  bluffs  supply  the 
place  of  the  Rhine  castles ;  but  where  that  river  widens  out 
into  Lake  Pepin,  the  conrparison,  of  course,  ceases. 

The  Rhine  is  a  river  of  romance.  A  sail  up  the  Rhine  is 
something  to  be  enjoyed  by  a  student,  a  tourist  who  has 
"  read  up,"  a  lover  of  travel  who  has  longed  to  wander  amid 
the  scenes  he  has  pored  over  on  the  pages  of  books,  gazed  at 
in  pictures  and  engravings,  and  wondered  if  the  reality  could 
possibly  be  equal  to  the  counterfeit  presentment ;  and  to  such 
it  will  be  as  it  was  to  us,  — 

"A  thing  of  beauty,  and  a  joy  forever." 

"We  rambled  around  Mayence,  visited  its  filthy  market- 
place, and  its  old  cathedral,  founded  in  the  tenth  century, 
which  has  felt  the  stern  vicissitudes  of  war  quite  severely, 
serving  at  different  periods  as  a  garrison  for  troops,  a  hay  and 
provision  magazine,  &c.  In  the  interior  are  quite  a  number 
of  monuments  of  German  electors,  with  tongue-puzzling  names, 
and  a  tablet  to  the  memory  of  one  of  Charlemagne's  wives ; 
and  in  the  Chapter-house  is  a  beautiful  sculpture  by  Schwan- 
thaler,  representing  a  female  figure  decorating  a  sarcophagus 
with  a  wreath ;  a  monument,  erected  by  the  ladies  of  May- 
ence in  1842,  in  memory  of  a  certain  holy  minstrel,  who  sang 
of  piety  and  woman's  virtue  some  time  in  the  early  part  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  Not  far  from  the  cathedral  is  Gut- 
tenberg  Square,  where  we  saw  Thorw  aids  en's  statue  of  Gut- 
tenberg,  representing  him  as  an  old  man,  with  the  long,  flow- 
ing, philosopher-looking  gown,  or  robe,  full  beard,  and  skull- 
cap, Avith  some  of  his  precious  volumes  under  his  arm,  and 
upon  the  pedestal  of  the  monument  were  bass-reliefs  repre- 
senting scenes  in  his  life.  A  bronze  statue  of  Schiller  adorns 
another  square  here. 


348  WIESBADEN". 

After  Mayence,  we  found  ourselves  taking  a  two  hours'  ride 
to  Wiesbaden,  one  of  the  oldest  watering-places  in  Germany, 
and  for  gambling  second  only  to  Baden-Baden.  Here  we 
found  fine  rooms  at  the  Hotel  Victoria,  and  the  polite  land- 
lord, Herr  Holzapfel,  with  a  desire  to  facilitate  the  enjoyment 
of  the  tourist,  very  graciously  presented  me  with  a  handsome 
little  local  guide-book,  bearing  the  astounding  title, "  Frem- 
denfulirer  fur  Wiesbaden  tend  seine  Umgebung"  and  its  im- 
print informed  me,  "  1m  Auftrage  des  Verfchonerungsvereins 
Jierausgegeven" 

Fancy  an  individual,  unacquainted  with  the  German  tongue, 
with  this  lucid  little  guide,  printed  in  small  German  text,  to 
aid  him  in  seeing  the  sights !  However,  I  thanked  the  land- 
lord, and  pocketed  the  guide-book  as  one  of  the  curiosities  of 
the  place.  Our  first  walk  was  to  the  chief  attraction  here  to 
all- visitors,  the  great  gaming-house  known  as  the  Cursaal, — 
which  is  suggestive  of  the  more  appropriate  title  Curse-all, — 
where  the  spacious  and  elegant  gaming-saloons,  that  have 
been  described  so  often,  were  open  for  play  from  eleven  A.  M. 
to  eleven  P.  M.,  and  which,  during  the  season,  are  thronged 
writh  players  at  the  roulette  and  rouge-ct-noir  tables.  The 
central  figure  of  attraction  to  strangers,  when  we  were  there, 
was  the  old  Duchess  of  Homburg,  who  was  each  day  wheeled 
in  a  chair  to  the  table  by  her  servant,  and  gambled  away  furi- 
ously, not  scrupling  a  malediction  when  she  lost  heavily,  or 
caring  to  conceal  the  eager  gratification  that  played  upon  her 
wrinkled  features,  or  made  the  gold  rattle  in  her  trembling 
and  eager  clutch,  when  she  won. 

This  gaming-hall  is  furnished  with  elegant  dining,  ball,  and 
reading-rooms,  and  adjoining  the  building  is  an  extensive  and 
elegantly  laid  out  park  and  pleasure-ground,  where  a  fine  band 
play  during  the  afternoon,  and  throngs  frequent  its  delightful 
alleys,  walks,  and  arbors.  All  these  are  free  to  the  visitor ; 
and  sometimes,  in  the  evening,  the  band  plays  in  the  ball- 
room, and  gayly-dressed  crowds  are  whirling  about  in  German 
waltzes  and  galops,  and  couples,  for  a  rest  now  and  then,  will 
stroll  into  the  adjacent  lofty  saloons  of  play,  the  silence  of 


GAMBLING   HALLS.  349 

which  Is  iu  striking  contrast  with  the  hall-room  clatter  with- 
out. Here  the  only  loud  words  spoken  are  those  of  the  man- 
agers of  the  tahle,  which,  at  regular  intervals,  rise  ahove  tlio 
subdued  hum  and  the  musical  rattle  of  gold  and  silver,  or  its 
clink  against  the  croupier's  rake,  as  they  sweep  in  the  stakes 
from  every  part  of  the  table  to  the  insatiate  maw  of  the  bank, 
with  the  familiar  and  oft-repeated  formula  of,  — 

"  Faites  votre  jeu,  messieurs." 

"Zejeu,  est-il  fait?" 

"JZie?i  ne  va  plus." 

(Make  your  game,  gentlemen.  Is  the  game  made  ?  Noth- 
ing more  goes).  Or,  at  the  roulette  table,  audible  announce- 
ment of  the  numbers,  and  color  which  wins,  determined  by 
the  ball  in  the  revolving  wheel. 

Leaving  Wiesbaden,  its  gamesters,  and  its  mineral  spring, 
the  water  of  which  tasted  very  much  like  a  warm  decoction 
of  salt  and  water,  we  sped  on  to  Frankfort-on-the-Main.  Here 
we  rode  through  beautiful  streets,  upon  each  side  of  which 
were  broad  double  houses,  surrounded  by  elegant  gardens. 
Here  is  the  monument  of  Guttenberg,  consisting  of  the  three 
figures  of  Guttenberg,  Fust  and  Schoffer,  beneath  which,  on 
the  ornamental  work,  -are  likenesses  of  celebrated  printers, 
and  grouped  around  the  monument  are  figures  of  Theology, 
Poetry,  History,  and  Industry. 

Here  avc  saw  the  house  in  which  Goethe  was  born,  and  rode 
down  through  the  Judengasse,  or  Jews  Street.  The  quarter 
inhabited  by  the  Jews  is  a  curious  old  place,  some  parts  too 
narrow  to  permit  two  vehicles  passing  each  other ;  the  un- 
painted,  high,  quaint,  and  solid  old  wooden  houses,  totally 
black  with  age,  stores  in  the  lower  stories  for  the  sale  of 
second-hand  clothes,  and  every  species  of  cheap  and  second- 
hand merchandise;  on  all  sides  were  troops  and  troops  of 
children,  with  sparkling  black  eyes,  and  the  unmistakable 
Jewish  nose.  The  houses  had  antique  carved  wood  door- 
posts to  deep,  dark  entries,  in  which  were  deeply-worn  stairs, 
that  lead  away  up  to  the  overhanging  stories  above ;  and  in 
the  entry  of  one  of  the  blackest  and  most  aged  of  these  old 


350  FRANKFORT-ON-THE-HAIN. 

structures  yawned  a  huge  trap-door,  occupying  more  than  half 
the  space  from  the  threshold  to  the  stair.  Peeping  down  the 
aperture,  left  where  the  half  leaf  had  been  raised  by  its  old- 
fashioned  iron  ring,  I  could  see  nothing  but  blackness,  and 
imagine  how  some  wealthy  Hebrew  might  have  made  this  the 
drawbridge  to  his  citadel,  so  that  the  robber,  who  gained  ac- 
cess beyond  the  bolts  and  chains  that  guarded  the  portal, 
would,  with  a  step,  be  precipitated  into  the  depths  below. 
An  iron  ring,  a  trap-door,  and  old  house  in  the  Jews'  quarter 
—  what  an  amount  of  capital  or  material  for  a  sensational 
story-writer  in  a  cheap  publication ! 

Here,  in  the  Jews'  quarter,  we  were  shown  the  house  in 
which  Rothschild  was  born,  —  Rochid  they  call  the  name 
here,  —  and  just  as  we  were  emerging  from  the  narrow, 
gloomy,  and  dirty  passages  of  this  quarter,  my  eye  caught  a 
familiar  object  in  the  little  grated  window  of  a  sort  of  shop  or 
office.  I  looked  a  second  time,  and  there,  the  central  figure 
amid  a  straggling  display  of  bank  notes  of  different  nationali- 
ties, was  a  five-hundred  dollar  United  States  five-twenty  bond, 
a  part  of  the  stock  in  trade  of  a  Jew  exchange  and  money 
broker,  who,  notwithstanding  the  unpretending  appearance 
of  his  shop,  which  looked  like  a  prison  cell  with  the  outside 
shutter  down  from  the  grated  window,  would  probably  have 
been  able  to  furnish  a  purchaser  ten  times  the  amount  on 
demand  if  he  required  it. 

In  striking  contrast  to  the  Judengasse  is  the  Ziel,  the  finest 
street  in  Frankfort,  filled  with  elegant  shops  and  houses. 
The  Jews  in  Frankfort  were  so  tyrannically  treated,  that  they 
founded  the  Jews  Street  themselves  in  1462,  and  lived  ex- 
clusively in  that  quarter  of  the  city  till  the  year  1806,  and  in 
olden  times,  on  Sundays  and  holidays,  the  entrances  to  this 
quarter  were  closed  with  gates  and  bars,  and  any  Jew  who 
ventured  into  any  other  part  of  the  city  incurred  a  heavy 
penalty.  Now,  midway  between  Judengasse  and  the  Ziel 
rise  the  business  offices  of  the  Rothschilds,  that  opulent  family 
to  whom  even  the  proudest  in  their  hours  of  need  would  fain 
doff  their  caps  for  favors ;  and  hard  by  the  progress  of  tolera- 


HEIDELBEEG.  351 

tion  is  marked  by  a  fine  new  synagogue,  built  in  the  Oriental 
style  in  1855. 

We  rode  to  the  Hessian  Monument,  as  it  is  called,  near 
one  of  the  city  gates;  it  consists  of  huge  masses  of  rock 
heaped  together,  upon  which  stands  a  pillar  bearing  a  sword, 
helmet,  and  ram's  head,  and  on  the  sides  are  bronze  tablets 
with  the  names  of  the  Hessians  Avho  fell  on  that  spot  in 
1792.  The  Latin  inscription  informs  the  reader  that  the 
monument  was  erected  by  Frederick  William,  King  of  Prus- 
sia, who  was  an  admiring  witness  of  their  bravery. 

When  we  rattled  over  the  pavements  of  the  city  of  Heidel- 
berg, on  our  way  to  the  Prince  Charles  Hotel,  I  looked  on  all 
sides  for  groups  and  bands  of  the  celebrated  students  Avho 
figure  so  prominently  in  novels  and  stories,  and  half  expected 
to  meet  a  string  of  six,  arm  in  arm,  walking  in  the  middle  of 
the  streets,  smoking  big  meerschaums,  and  wearing  queer-cut 
clothes  and  ornamental  caps,  or  singing  uproarious  college 
songs.  Or  I  might  encounter  several  devil-may-care  fellows, 
each  bearing  a  scar  upon  some  part  of  his  face,  the  result  of 
one  of  those  noted  Heidelberg  duels  the  story-writers  tell  of. 
But  either  the  story-tellers  had  romanced  most  magnificently, 
or  we  had  arrived  at  a  time  of  day  —  which  we  afterwards 
found  to  be  the  case  —  when  the  students  were  engaged  in 
their  favorite  pastime  of  swilling  lager  beer,  in  the  dense  at- 
mosphere of  tobacco  smoke,  from  scores  of  pipes,  in  their 
favorite  coffee-house ;  for  we  only  met  a  snuffy  old  professor 
in  a  black  velvet  skull-cap  and  big  round  spectacles,  and  an 
occasional  very  proper-looking  young  man,  save  one  whose 
scarlet  embroidered  cap  gave  him  the,  appearance  of  a  mem- 
ber of  an  American  base-ball  club. 

Some  forward  Americans  had  gone  before  us,  and  secured 
the  remaining  rooms  in  the  Prince  Charles,  which  were  next 
the  roof;  so  we  were  driven  to  the  Adler  (eagle),  on  the  same 
square,  an  enclosure  known  as  the  Cornmarkt,  where  we 
were  admirably  served.  Our  apartments  looked  out  upon 
the  curious  old  square  with  its  fountain  in  the  middle,  to  and 
from  which  women  went  and  came  all  day  long,  and  bore  off 


352  HEIDELBERG   CASTLE. 

water  in  jars,  pails,  and  tubs,  some  poising  a  heavy  wash-tub 
full  upon  their  heads,  and  walking  off  with  a  steady  gait 
under  the  burden.  Overlooking  the  little  square,  rose  the 
famous  Heidelberg  Castle,  three  hundred  feet  above  us ;  and 
we  could  see  a  steep  foot-path  leading  to  it,  known  as  the 
Burgweg  (castle-way),  which  commenced  on  the  side  of  the 
square  opposite  our  hotel. 

Heidelberg  is  charmingly  situated  on  the  River  Neckar, 
is  rich  in  historical  associations,  and,  as  all  readers  are  aware, 
is  attractive  to  the  tourist  chiefly  from  its  university,  and  its 
castle,  which  is  one  of  the  last  creations  of  the  old  castle- 
builders,  and  seems  in  its  style  to  be  something  between  a 
stronghold  and  a  chateau,  a  palace  and  a  fortification.  It 
certainly  is  a  most  imposing  and  magnificent  ruin,  with  its 
lofty  turrets,  great  round  towers,  terraces,  arched  gate-ways, 
and  still  splendid  court-yards  and  grounds ;  the  splendor  of 
the  building  and  beauty  of  its  situation  induce  one  enthusi- 
astic guide-book  to  style  it  "  the  Alhambra  of  the  Germans." 

A  good,  comfortable  night's  rest  at  the  Eagle  Hotel  pre- 
pared us  for  the  ascent  next  morning  by  the  steep  pathway 
and  steps  that  led  up  to  it  from  the  Corn  Market ;  up  we  go, 
and  after  an  ascent  of  about  fifteen  minutes,  we  pass  through 
a  massive  arch-way,  known  as  Frederic  IV.'s  building,  and 
stand  in  the  great  court-yard  of  the  castle. 

The  portion  of  the  buildings  fronting  on  this  grand  en- 
closure are  elegantly  carved  and  decorated  with  arcades  and 
life-size  sculptures ;  here  is  one  known  as  Rudolf's  building, 
the  oldest  part  of  the  castle,  a  Gothic  structure,  then  Rup- 
precht's  building,  founded  in  the  year  1400,  by  Rupprecht 
III.,  with  beautiful  Gothic  windows,  over  which  are  the  archi- 
tect's arms,  three  small  shields  upon  an  escutcheon.  This 
carving  is  taken  by  many  to  be  some  sort  of  a  masonic  mark, 
but  is  nothing  of  the  kind,  but  according  to  a  little  local  guide, 
a  coat  of  arms  common  to  all  German  artists ;  and  an  in- 
teresting legend  as  to  its  origin  is  told,  which  is  to  the  effect 
that  one  day  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  visited  Holbein,  the 
artist,  and  found  him  busy  painting  at  the  top  of  a  high  scaf- 


KOMANTIC    OLD    TILE.  353 

folding;  the  emperor  signed  to  the  artist  not  to  disturb  him- 
self, and  at  the  same  time  motioned  to  one  of  his  suite  to 
steady  the  tottering  ladder;  the  young  noble,  however,  think- 
ing it  beneath  his  dignity  to  render  such  menial  service  to  an 
artist,  pretended  not  to  understand  the  emperor,  who  there- 
upon advanced  and  steadied  it  himself,  and  commanded  that 
from  that  time  the  German  artists  should  be  reckoned  among 
the  nobility  of  the  empire,  and  their  coat  of  arms  should  be 
such  as  Holbein  decided  upon.  The  artist  then  made  choice 
of  three  small  uniform  silver  shields  on  a  blue  field. 

Then  Ave  have  other  beautiful  buildings  fronting  on  the 
great  court-yard,  and  named  after  their  builders,  who  at  dif- 
ferent periods  made  their  contributions  of  architectural  orna- 
ment to  this  romantic  old  pile.  One  of  the  most  gorgeous 
is  that  known  as  Otto  Heinrich's  building,  finished  in  1559, 
restored  twice,  —  the  last  time  in  1659,  and  finally  destroyed 
in  1764,  —  but  the  splendid  front  remains  standing,  and  even 
now,  in  its  partially  ruined  condition,  excites  admiration,  with 
its  splendid  facade,  rich  to  prodigality  with  statues,  carvings, 
and  decorations.  Ludwig's  building  is  another,  into  which 
we  can  go  and  see  the  great  kitchen,  with  its  huge  fireplace 
and  great  hearth  in  the  middle,  where,  on  festal  occasions, 
whole  oxen  were  roasted. 

Near  here  is  the  castle  well,  fifty-four  feet  deep,  with  four 
pillars  taken  from  Charlemagne's  palace,  to  support  its  canopy, 
the  pillars  being  those  sent  to  Charlemagne  by  Rome  for  his 
royal  edifice.  Then  comes  Frederick's  building,  founded  by 
Frederick  IV.  in  1601,  rich  in  statues  and  sculpture,  and  un- 
der it  a  chapel,  over  the  portal  of  which  is  inscribed,  in  Latin, 
the  words  of  the  Psalmist, — 

"  This  is  the  gate  of  the  Lord; 
The  righteous  shall  enter  into  it." 

But  we  are  bewildered  with  the  different  facades,  towers, 
fronts,  and  buildings  that  succeed  each  other  in  this,  what  we 
now  find  to  be  a  sort  of  agglomeration  of  castles,  and  so  pass 
out  to  the  great  stone  terrace  or  platform  that  looks  down 
upon  the  town  and  the  valley  below. 
23 


354  WONDERS    OP   THE    CASTLE. 

These  old  castle-builders  did  have  an  eye  for  the  beauti« 
ful ;  and  a  grand  point  for  observation  is  this  great  terrace. 
Only  fincy  a  broad  stone  platform,  seventy  or  eighty  feet 
long  by  thirty  feet  wide,  midway  up  the  front  wall  of  an 
elegant  castle,  rich  in  architectural  beauty,  the  terrace  itself 
with  heavy  cut  stone  rails,  vases,  seats,  and  ornamental  stone 
bowers  at  the  corners,  while  spread  out  far  below  and  before 
the  spectator  lies  one  of  the  loveliest  landscape  views  that  can 
be  imagined.  We  can  look  right  into  the  streets  of  the  town 
directly  below  us  ;  beyond  is  the  winding  River  Neckar,  with 
its  beautiful  arched  bridge,  and  beyond  that  a  vine-clad  height 
known  as  the  Holy  Mountain ;  on  one  side  is  the  lovely  val- 
ley of  the  Neckar,  romantically  and  luxuriously  beautiful  as 
it  stretches  away  in  the  distance.  The  town  of  Heidelberg 
itself  is  squeezed  in  between  the  castle  hill  and  the  River 
Neckar,  which  widens  out  below  the  town,  and  finally  unites 
with  the  Rhine,  which  we  see  in  the  distance,  and  beyond  it 
blue  mountains,  binding  in  the  distant  horizon,  frame  in  the 
charming  picture. 

I  cannot,  of  course,  describe,  in  the  limits  of  a  sketch,  the 
massiveness,  vast  extent,  and  splendor  of  this  castle,  the  pro- 
duction of  three  centuries,  —  commenced  when  the  crusades 
were  at  their  height,  and  not  finished  till  long  after  cannon 
were  in  use ;  so  that  we  mark  the  progress  and  changes  of 
architecture  in  each  century,  and  cannot  but  feel  that,  in  some 
respects,  the  builders  of  old  times  were  in  advance  of  those 
of  the  present  day.  One  might  stay  here  weeks,  and  enjoy 
the  romantic  scenery  of  the  vicinity  and  the  never-ending 
new  discoveries  which  he  makes  in  this  picturesque  old  ruin. 
In  1689  the  French  captured  the  place  and  undertook  to  blow 
up  the  principal  round  tower ;  it  was  so  solidly  and  compact- 
ly built,  however,  that  the  enormous  mass  of  powder  they 
placed  under  it,  instead  of  lifting  the  great  cylinder  into  the 
air  to  fall  back  a  heap  of  ruins,  only  broke  off  a  third  part  of 
it,  which  toppled  over  entire  in  one  solid  chunk,  and  it  lies 
as  it  fell,  broken  off  from  the  main  body  as  if  by  the  stroke 
of  a  gigantic  mallet,  and  exposes  the  wall  of  close  knit  ma- 
sonry twenty  feet  in  thickness. 


THE    GREAT    TUN.  355 

We  wander  through  halls,  court-yards,  vaulted  passages, 
deep  dungeons,  and  lofty  banquet  halls,  into  round  and  square 
towers ;  cross  a  regular  broad  old  drawbridge  wide  enough 
for  a  troop  of  mail-clad  knights  to  ride  out  from  the  great 
arched  entrance,  which  stands  in  good  preservation,  with  its 
turrets  and  posts  for  warders  and  guards,  and  there  is  the 
huge,  deep  castle  moat  and  all,  just  as  we  have  read  about 
them,  or  seen  them  illustrated  in  poetic  fictions. 

We  pass  out  upon  a  sort  of  long  spur  or  outwork  from  the 
castle  —  a  kind  of  outer  battery,  which  is  styled  the  great 
terrace,  and  was  built  in  1615  —  a  charming  promenade,  upon 
which  is  a  mall,  shaded  by  trees,  and  from  which  we  get 
another  picturesque  view  of  the  scene  below,  and  of  the 
castle  itself. 

But  we  must  not  leave  Heidelberg  Castle  without  seeing 
the  Great  Tun ;  and  so  we  pay  our  kreutzers  to  the  little  maid 
who  acts  as  guide,  and  descend  below,  to  the  cellars  of  the 
famous  wine-bibbers  of  old.  We  came  to  a  cellar  in  which 
there  was  a  big  barrel  indeed,  as  it  held  two  hundred  hogs- 
heads of  wine ;  but  this  not  coming  up  to  the  expectations 
of  some  of  the  party,  there  were  expressions  of  dissatisfac- 
tion, until  our  guide  informed  us  that  this  was  only  the  front 
cellar,  where  they  used  to  keep  twelve  little  barrels  of  this 
size,  and  jwinted  out  the  raised  platforms  upon  which  they 
used  to  stand ;  but  the  great  barrel  was  in  the  back  cellar. 
So  we  followed  in,  and  found  a  big  barrel  indeed,  large  as  a 
two-story  house,  thirty-two  feet  long  and  twenty-six  feet 
high.  It  holds  eight  hundred  hogsheads  of  the  vinous  fluid, 
and  its  contents  fill  two  hundred  and  thirty-six  thousand 
bottles.  The  diameter  of  the  heads  of  this  bier  barrel  is 
twenty-two  feet,  and  the  circumference  of  the  centre  two 
hundred  and  thirty-one  feet.  The  bung-hole  of  this  great 
cask,  however,  seems  more  out  of  proportion  than  an  ele- 
phant's eye,  for  it  measured  scarcely  four  inches  in  diameter. 
Steps  lead  around  the  tun,  and  up  to  its  top,  upon  which  is 
laid  a  platform,  on  which  a  cotillon  has  been  danced  by 
enthusiastic  visitors.     Remember,  this   is   down   cellar.     If 


356  the  king's  seat. 

they  keep  barrels  of  this  kind  down  cellar,  the  reader  may 
imagine  the  size  of  the  house  above,  and,  perhaps,  the  drink- 
ing capacities  of  those  who  used  to  inhabit  it. 

A  beautiful  carriage  road,  passing  the  ruined  walls,  and 
leaving  them  below,  leads  up  to  a  pretty  chalet,  three  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  castle;  and  here,  one  day,  we  halted  on 
the  rocky  platform,  and  gladdened  the  heart  of  the  landlord 
by  an  order  for  lunch  for  the  party,  which  Avas  spread  for  us 
in  the  garden,  from  which  Ave  could  look  down  into  the  ruins 
of  the  old  castle,  upon  the  town  below,  and  the  winding 
river.  We  Avere  not  permitted  to  enjoy  our  al  fresco  repast, 
for  a  thunder  storm  came  rolling  up  the  valley,  and  we  were 
hustled  in  doors,  where,  however,  we  found  the  host  was  pre- 
pared for  such  emergencies,  as  our  viands  were  spread  out  in 
an  apartment  with  a  glass  side,  looking  towards  the  valley, 
so  that  we  sat  there,  and  watched  the  great  gusts  sweep  up 
the  river,  and  the  rain  come  swirling  down  in  sheets  of  rat- 
tling drops,  amid  the  peals  of  thunder  that  echoed  and  reArer- 
berated  betAveen  the  hills,  and  finally  swept  past  with  the 
shower,  angrily  muttering  in  the  distance,  as  though  the 
spirits  of  the  Hartz  Mountains  and  Black  Forest  were 
retiring  before  the  fairies  of  the  valley,  Avho  went  sweeping 
after  them  in  great  clouds  of  shining  mist,  overarched  by  a 
gorgeous  rainbow. 

We  enjoyed  the  prospect  from  this  place,  which  was  the 
site  of  the  ancient  castle,  traces  of  which  still  remain,  and 
then  took  carriage  for  the  Konigsstuhl,  or  King's  Seat,  a 
round  tower  far  above  us.  A  ride  of  about  an  hour  through 
the  dripping  woods,  with  the  vegetation  bright  and  fresh 
from  the  recent  shoAA7er,  brought  us  to  this  elevation,  which  is 
eight  hundred  and  fifty  feet  higher  than  the  castle,  and  seven- 
teen hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

Upon  the  summit  of  the  King's  Seat,  a  round  stone  tower, 
ninety  feet  in  height,  is  erected,  which  we  ascended,  and 
were  rewarded  with  a  still  more  extensive  view  than  any  we 
had  previously  had  of  the  surrounding  country.  In  one  direc- 
tion is  the  dark  and  sombre  foliage  of  the  Black  Forest ;  in 


PIPES    AND    BEER.  357 

another,  the  picturesque  mountains  and  valleys  of  the  Oden- 
wald;  in  another,  we  look  down  upon  the  old  castle  and 
town  far  beneath,  and  see  the  River  Rhine  winding  away  off* 
through  the  landscape,  like  a  crinkled  ribbon  of  steel ;  there 
are  the  Hartz  Mountains,  of  which  we  have  read  so  many  old 
German  legends,  in  which  wehr  wolves,  and  mysterious 
huntsmen,  who  wound  magic  horns,  figured.  Far  in  the  dis- 
tance, beyond  the  dark-green  forests,  we  descry,  with  our 
field-glass,  the  cathedral  spire  of  Strasburg.  Turn  whichever 
way  we  may,  the  view  is  superb,  and  the  hill  is  indeed  a 
kingly  seat,  for  it  commands  as  magnificent  a  prospect  as 
king  could  wish  to  look  upon. 

Heidelberg  is  a  paradise  of  pipes  —  so  I  thought  till  I 
reached  Vienna ;  but  meerschaums  of  splendid  carving  and 
quality  are  sold  here  at  prices  so  low,  in  comparison  with 
what  they  cost  in  America,  that  the  temptation  to  smokers 
to  lay  in  a  stock  is  almost  irresistible.  Malacca  joint  canes, 
with  elegantly  carved  pure  ivory  handles,  are  another  article 
that  is  marvellously  cheap  here,  twenty  francs  (four  dollars, 
gold)  purchasing  the  best  and  most  elaborate  patterns,  the 
grips  or  handles  of  which  were  wrought  into  figures  of  fruit, 
flowers,  wreaths,  and  heads  of  birds  and  animals.  The  shop 
windows  held  many  pictures  of  students'  clubs,  —  some  clubs 
famed  for  the  number  of  glasses  of  beer  their  members  could 
guzzle,  he  being  elected  president  who  could  hold  the  most 
of  that  liquid  —  in  fact,  who  made  the  biggest  beer  barrel  of 
himself.  In  other  windows  were  displayed  huge  horns,  with 
a  silver  cup,  and  a  tall  mug,  of  huge  capacity,  said  to  repre- 
sent the  draught  of  the  presidents  of  two  rival  clubs,  —  sup- 
posed to  be  what  they  could  swill  at  a  single  pull. 

The  beer  halls  frequented  by  the  students  are  similar  to 
the  great  lager  beer  saloons  in  this  country ;  and,  in  the  even- 
ing, the  tables  are  thronged  with  students,  talking,  discuss- 
ing questions,  playing  dominoes,  smoking,  and  drinking. 
There  is  a  tremendous  clatter  of  voices,  and  the  smoke  is  so 
thick  —  well,  none  but  Germans  and  Spaniards  could  live  in 
such  a  dense  cloud. 


358  BADEN-BADEN". 

The  University  of  Heidelberg,  which  is  the  oldest  in  Ger- 
many, .[  think  was  founded  in  1386.  The  university  build- 
ings —  which  are  very  old,  some  of  them  erected  in  1693  — 
are  plain  and  unpretending  in  their  appearance.  The  great 
library  here  contains  over  two  hundred  thousand  volumes, 
and  many  curious  manuscripts,  which  we  did  not  inspect,  as 
they  are  of  interest  chiefly  to  scientific  scholars,  and  only 
accessible  between  the  hours  of  ten  and  twelve  in  the  fore- 
noon. There  is  but  little  in  the  town  of  Heidelberg  itself  to 
interest  the  tourist.  The  great  attraction  is  the  noble  old 
castle,  and  the  romantic  highlands  about  it. 

A  three  hours'  ride  from  Heidelberg,  and  we  are  at  Baden- 
Baden,  that  gayest  of  the  gay  watering-places  on  the  conti- 
nent. We  are  driven  to  our  hotel,  the  Hotel  de  l'Europe,  a 
most  charming  house,  large,  clean,  and  splendidly  kept  by 
hosts  who  thoroughly  know  their  business,  and  entirely  free 
from  any  of  the  extortions,  swindles,  and  sharp  practices 
which  disgrace  our  Saratoga  and  Newport  hotels.  Indeed, 
everything  in  the  hotels  in  Baden-Baden  is  so  comfortable  to 
the  tourist,  so  pleasant,  and  even  luxurious,  and  at  such  com- 
paratively moderate  cost,  that  one  is  half  inclined  to  think 
the  proprietors  of  them  may  be  interested  in  the  gambling 
bank,  and  have  an  object  in  making  their  houses  too  agree- 
able to  leave  with  a  short  visit.  There  are  three  proprietors 
to  this  hotel ;  and  always  one,  and  generally  two,  are  in  con- 
stant attendance  in  the  lower  halls  and  at  the  table  d'hote, 
to  attend  personally  to  their  guests,  to  answer  all  questions, 
and,  in  fact,  to  serve  them  in  every  way  possible,  which,  it  is 
but  justice  to  say,  is  done  in  the  most  unexceptionable  manner. 

The  Hotel  de  l'Europe  is  wide,  deep,  and  cool ;  the  broad 
staircase  in  the  centre  is  ornamented  with  pretty  flowers  in 
pots,  and  running  and  trailing  plants  twining  about  the  bal- 
usters, all  the  way  up  to  the  second  story.  Directly  beneath 
my  window  is  a  beautiful  strip  of  flower-garden,  and  the 
fresh  air  comes  in  at  the  casement  laden  with  the  odors  of 
roses,  carnation  pinks,  honeysuckles,  and  a  score  of  other 
beautiful  flowers,  which  are  blooming  in  profusion.     Beyond 


PICTOKIAL,    LEGENDS.  359 

this  livtle  garden,  say  twenty  or  thirty  feet  from  the  hotel, 
runs  the  little  River  Oos,  over  a  smooth-paved,  artificial  bed 
of  stone  —  a  swift,  clear,  sparkling  little  stream,  of  scarce 
three  feet  deep,  and  its  width  of  not  more  than  a  score, 
spanned  by  little  rustic  bridges,  connecting  the  grounds  of 
the  different  hotels  that  are  strung  along  its  banks  with  the 
opposite  shore,  which  is  the  broad,  high  road,  along  which  the 
numerous  gay  equipages  which  frequent  watering-places  are 
continually  passing. 

Beyond  the  road,  beneath  shady  trees,  is  the  Trink  Halle, 
or,  as  the  English  have  dubbed  the  place,  the  pump-room, 
probably  because  there  is  no  pump  there,  except  the  natural 
one  of  the  springs,  whose  mineral  waters  are  conducted  into 
ornamental  fountains,  which  the  drinkers  and  bathers  visit  at 
seven  A.  M.,  to  the  inspiriting  and  lively  music  of  an  excel- 
lent band.  This  punip-room  is  a  long,  one-story  building, 
two  hundred  and  seventy  feet  long  and  thirty-six  wide,  the 
facade  resting  on  sixteen  Corinthian  pillars.  Beneath  the 
facade,  and  upon  large  j>anels  of  the  building  behind  the  colon- 
nade of  pillars,  are  fourteen  great  frescoes,  executed  by  an 
artist  named  Gotzenbreger,  and  representing  pictorially  some 
of  those  wild  legends  and  weird  stories  of  magic  and  enchant- 
ment for  which  Germany  is  so  noted. 

Baden,  be  it  remembered,  lies  at  the  entrance  of  the  cele- 
brated Black  Forest,  popularly  inhabited  by  various  powerful 
enchanters,  gnomes,  dwarfs,  and  sprites.  These  great  pictures 
were  all  handsomely  executed,  but  the  weather,  to  which  they 
are  partially  exposed,  is  rapidly  fading  away  their  rich  tints. 
There  was  one,  representing  a  beautiful,  light-haired,  blue- 
eyed  German  girl,  with  but  a  light  drapery  flowing  around  her 
shapely  limbs  as  she  walked  down  to  a  mountain  stream  with 
her  arm  on  the  neck  of  a  snow-white  stag :  an  entranced  hunts- 
man knelt  upon  the  opposite  bank,  gazing  at  this  lovely  vision ; 
and  while  he  gazed,  one  busy  gnome  was  twisting  a  tough 
bramble  about  his  ankle,  another  huge-headed  fellow  was 
reaching  out  from  beneath  a  rock,  and  severing  his  bow- 
string, while  a  third,  a  sturdy,  belted  and  hooded  dwarf,  was 


360  SABBATH   AMUSEMENT. 

robbing  his  quiver  of  its  arrows  :  all  around,  the  rocks  looked 
out  in  curious,  wild,  and  grotesque  faces  ;  they  leered  from 
the  crags,  grinned  from  pebbles  in  the  water,  or  frowned 
awfully  from  the  great  crags  above  the  hunter,  who,  dazzled 
by  the  enchantress,  sees  nothing  of  this  frightful  scene,  which 
♦is  like  the  figures  of  a  troubled  dream  —  thoroughly  phantas- 
magoric and  German.  Another  picture  shows  a  brave  knight 
just  on  the  point  of  espousing  a  weird  lady  before  an  abbot, 
the  satanic  glare  of  whose  eyes  betrays  his  infernal  origin; 
cock-crow  has  evidently  prevented  these  nuptials,  as  at  one 
side  chanticleer  is  represented  vigorously  sounding  his  clarion, 
and  in  the  foreground  lies  another  figure  of  the  same  knight 
in  a  deep  sleep.  Other  scenes  represent  encounters  of  shep- 
herds with  beautiful  water-sprites  or  Undines  of  the  mountain 
lakes  and  rivers,  knights  at  enchanted  castle.s,  and  sprites  in 
ruined  churches,  each  one  being  the  pictorial  representation  of 
some  well-known  legend  of  the  vicinity. 

We  arrived  at  Baden  on  Saturday,  after  dark,  and  I  was 
roused  Sunday  morning  to  look  out  upon  the  scene  I  have 
described,  by  the  music  of  a  magnificent  band,  which  com- 
menced with  the  grand  hymn  of  Old  Hundred ;  then  a  piece 
from  Handel;  next  came  the  grand  Wedding  March  of 
Mendelssohn ;  and  we  looked  from  our  windows  to  see  throngs 
of  people  promenading  up  and  down  the  jriazza  in  front  of  the 
Trink  Halle,  to  the  inspiriting  harmony,  or  coming  in  every 
direction  from  the  different  hotels  and  pensions,  or  boarding* 
houses,  for  their  morning  drink  of  spring-water.  Gradually 
the  music  assumed  a  livelier  character,  till  it  wound  up  with 
sprightly  quadrilles  and  a  lively  polka,  played  with  a  spirit 
that  would  almost  have  set  an  anchorite  in  a  dancing  fever. 

A  fit  illustration  was  this  of  the  regard  for  the  Sabbath  in 
this  headquarters  of  the  enemy  of  man,  where,  at  noon,  the 
great  doors  of  the  gambling-house  swung  open,  and  the 
rouge-et-noir  and  roulette  tables  were  at  once  thronged  with 
players,  without  intermission,  till  midnight. 

This  great  gaming-house,  which  has  been  so  often  described, 
is  styled  the  Conversation-haus,  and  is  beautifully  fitted  up 


satan's  snare  baited.  361 

with  drawing-rooms,  lofty  and  elegant  ball-room,  with  each 
end  opening  ont  into  magnificent  gardens,  that  are  rich  in 
parterres  of  flowers,  shady  alleys,  beautiful  trees,  fountains, 
and  statues.  During  the  afternoon  and  evening  these  gardens 
are  thronged,  the  magnificent  band  plays  the  choicest  of 
music,  elegantly-dressed  people  saunter  amid  the  trees  and 
flowers,  or  sit  at  little  tables  and  sip  light  wines,  eat  ices,  and 
chat;  you  hear  German,  French,  English,  and  Italian  amid 
the  clatter  of  voices  in  any  momentary  lull  of  the  music;  you 
may  order  your  ice-cream  in  any  of  these  languages,  and  a 
waiter  is  at  hand  to  understand  and  serve  you;  you  may 
spend  the  whole  day  in  this  beautiful  spot,  enjoy  music  that 
you  gladly  pay  a  concert  price  at  home  to  hear,  without  a 
penny  expense,  or  even  the  remotest  hint  for  remuneration 
from  any  servant,  except  it  be  for  the  refreshments  you  order 
—  for  the  proprietor  of  the  gaming  establishment  gladly  de- 
frays all  the  expenses,  for  the  privilege  he  enjoys  exclusively, 
and  he  pays  besides  the  sum  of  sixty  thousand  dollars  per 
annum ;  so  we  enjoy  it  somewhat  freely,  although  we  cannot 
help  reflecting,  however,  that  those  who  really  bear  the  ex- 
pense are  the  victims  insnared  in  the  glittering  and  alluring 
net  which  they  themselves  help  to  weave. 

From  the  flutter  of  passing  butterflies  of  fashion,  the  clatter 
of  tongues,  the  moving  throng,  and  rich  strains  of  music,  we 
pass  through  the  noiselessly  swinging  doors  that  admit  us 
to  the  almost  hushed  inner  court  of  the  votaries  of  chance. 
Here,  as  at  Wiesbaden,  the  only  voices  above  a  subdued  tone 
are  those  of  the  dealers,  with  their  regular  formula  of  ex- 
pression, while  ever  and  anon,  following  the  rattle  of  the 
roulette  wheel,  comes  the  clink  of  the  gold  and  silver  which 
the  presiding  high  priests  of  Mammon  rake  into  the  clutches 
of  the  bank.  People  of  every  grade,  nation,  and  profession 
jostle  each  other  at  these  tables.  Here  all  meet  on  a  common 
level,  and  rank  is  not  recognized.  The  only  rank  here  is  the 
guinea-stamp,  and  that,  if  the  possessor  conduct  himself  in 
an  orderly  manner,  insures  prince  and  peasant  an  equal  chance 
at  the  tables.     The  language  used  is  French. 


262  AMONG    THE    GAMBLERS. 

I  have  seen  beautiful  young  ladies,  scarce  turned  nineteen, 
sealed  here  next  their  young  husbands,  with  whom  they  were 
making  their  bridal  tour,  jostled  by  the  elegant  Parisian  mem- 
ber of  the  demi-monde,  whose  noble  "friend"  hands  her  a 
thousand  francs  to  enjoy  herself  with  for  a  while ;  young 
students,  trembling,  eager  old  men ;  raw  Americans,  taking 
a  "flyer; "  and  sometimes  astonishing  the  group  by  the  mag- 
nitude of  their  bets ;  old  women,  Russian  counts,  who  com- 
mence by  getting  several  notes  changed  into  a  big  pile  of 
gold,  which  steadily  diminishes  beneath  the  assaults  they 
make  on  the  bank,  with  as  little  effect  as  raw  infantry  char- 
ging against  a  fortified  breastwork;  nay,  I  even  saw  the 
sallow  countenance  of  a  Turk,  looking  on  from  beneath  his 
fez  cap,  while  its  owner  fumbled  uneasily  at  his  girdle  till  he 
had  detached  his  purse,  and  gratified  his  curiosity  by  losing  a 
few  gold  jneces  ;  professional  gamblers,  sharpers,  women  of 
uncertain  character;  old,  young,  and  middle-aged,  all  sacrifi- 
cing at  the  same  shrine. 

"But  some  win?" 

Yes,  and  the  very  ones  whose  success  is  least  expected. 
Old  habitues  will  study  the  combination  of  figures  for  weeks, 
and  keep  a  record  of  the  numbers,  and  the  order  in  which 
they  turn  up,  and  then,  having,  by  mathematical  certainty, 
made  sure  of  lucky  numbers,  stake  —  and  lose.  The  croupiers 
go  on  regularly,  mechanically,  and,  unmoved  by  success  or 
loss,  or  whatever  takes  place  about  them,  they  rake  in  heavy 
stakes,  and  pay  out  huge  losses,  without  moving  a  muscle  of 
their  countenances,  or  betraying  the  least  emotion,  raking  in 
a  huge  stake  while  I  was  watching  the  game  that  made  even 
the  old  habitues  glare  at  the  player,  without  even  so  much  as 
a  glance  at  him,  and  paying  out  a  big  loss  with  only  the 
simple  dialogue, — 

"  Billets  du  banque?" 

"  AW 

And  a  dozen  rouleaux  of  twenty-franc  pieces  were  pushed 
over  to  the  winner. 

I  saw  one  of  these  unexpected  winners,  in  the  person  of  a 


SCENE    AT    TIIE    TABLE.  363 

young  Heide]  berg  student,  who  commenced  with  a  couple  of 
Napoleons  (forty  francs).  He  won ;  doubled  his  stake,  won 
again ;  doubled,  and  won  again  ;  then  he  took  up  the  pile  of 
gold,  and  placed  two  double  Napoleons  (eighty  francs)  on 
a  single  number;  it  came  up,  and  the  bank  paid  him  the 
amount  won,  which  was  fifteen  or  twenty  times  the  amount 
of  his  stake ;  he  put  this  whole  heap  on  rouge  (red),  and  the 
ball  fell  in  rouge,  and  he  won,  and  the  amount  was  doubled ; 
he  moved  the  increased  heap  to  noir  (black),  and  won  again ! 
He  pulled  the  heap  of  loose  gold,  rouleaux,  and  notes  to- 
wards him ;  players  looked  up,  an  obsequious  servant  brought 
a  chair  for  him  to  sit  down,  and  two  or  three  friends  gathered 
at  his  back ;  he  crammed  gold  and  notes  —  all  but  five  twenty- 
franc  pieces —  promiscuously  into  his  pantaloons  pocket,  bet 
those  five  on  the  red,  won ;  moved  the  ten  to  the  black,  won 
again;  the  twenty  to  another  figure,  and  won  thrice  his 
stake. 

By  this  time  other  players  began  to  follow  him  in  their 
bets ;  he  put  forty  francs  on  a  single  number,  and  half  a 
dozen  players  crowded  their  bets  on  to  the  same. 

It  lost. 

Nothing  daunted,  they  followed  him,  and  rained  down 
their  Napoleons  upon  the  black;  this  time  they  were  re- 
warded ;  black  won. 

The  student  pocketed  his  heap  of  gold  again,  all  except 
five  pieces,  and  then  with  that  capital  bet  again ;  lost  three 
of  the  five ;  tried  a  single  number  with  one  Napoleon,  lost, 
of  course ;  put  the  other  on  the  black,  won  again ;  balanced 
the  two  pieces  on  his  fingers  for  a  moment,  while  half  a 
dozen  players  were  watching  him,  and  then  put  one  on  the 
black  again,  which  in  an  instant  was  almost  obscured  by 
the  thick  plating  of  metal  that  followed  the  lead  of  his  stake 
from  other  players. 

" Rouge,  dix-huit" 

Down  came  the  croupier's  rake,  and  away  rattled  the  glit- 
tering heap  towards  the  banker,  while  the  student  smilingly 
balanced  his  remaining  Napoleon  in  a  sort  of  uncertain  man- 


364  THE    BAZAAR. 

ner  on  his  forefinger,  then  turned  and  whispered  a  word  to 
his  friends,  rose  and  tossed  the  twenty  francs  magnificently 
to  the  servant  who  had  handed  him  a  chair,  and  who  was 
still  behind  him,  and  then,  with  bulging  pockets,  walked 
away. 

Baden  is  beautifully  situated,  and  its  scenery  and  sur- 
roundings charming.  A  broad,  well-kept,  and  shady  avenue 
commences  opposite  our  hotel,  and  affords  a  splendid  drive 
of  over  two  miles,  and,  like  the  drive  at  Newport,  is  fre- 
quented by  gay  equipages  during  the  fashionable  season. 
Then  there  are  the  old  and  new  castles  above  the  town, 
reached  by  winding  and  romantic  roads,  and  from  the  summit 
of  the  former  a  fine  view  of  the  valley  of  the  Rhine,  and 
the  beautiful  valley  of  Baden,  with  its  great  hotels,  elegant 
grounds,  and  pretty  villas. 

The  bazaar,  a  sort  of  open-air  fair  of  booths,  in  a  pleasant 
grove,  not  far  from  the  grounds  of  the  Conversation-haus,  is 
another  novelty,  and  an  attractive  one  to  foreigners  ;  for  here 
is  a  collection  of  all  those  miscellaneous  trinkets  that  tourists 
load  themselves  down  with,  such  as  carved  wood  of  Switzer- 
land, garnets  from  Prague,  worsted  work  from  Berlin,  shaded 
photographs  from  Munich,  all  sorts  and  kinds  of  sleeve-but- 
tons, breast-pins,  shawl-pins,  ivory  carvings,  ribbons,  crystals 
from  the  Alps,  leather  work  from  Vienna,  and  a  thousand 
and  one  curious  and  pretty  articles  to  tempt  the  taste  of 
purchasers. 

We  left  the  beautiful  Hotel  de  l'Europe,  with  its  pleasant 
rooms,  elegant  table  d'hote,  and  prompt  attention,  with 
regret,  for  two  reasons  :  one,  that  it  was  so  agreeable  a  place 
of  rest ;  and  the  other,  that  the  price,  at  this  most  expensive 
of  the  hotels,  with  all  its  privileges,  was  less  than  two  dollars 
per  diem. 

Up  and  away,  for  we  must  see  the  grand  old  Cathedral  of 
Strasburg — a  two  hours'  journey;  and  here  we  are,  at  the 
magnificent  portal  of  this  edifice,  founded  by  old  King  Clo- 
vis,  in  510.  The  carvings  above  the  portal  are  magnificent. 
Here  are  equestrian  statues  of  Clovis,  Dagobert,  and  other 


STKASBURG    CATHEDRAL.  365 

old  worthies,  elegantly  wrought,  amid  a  wealth  of  rich  tra- 
cery and  carving;  hut  as  the  spectator  looks  up,  up,  up,  at 
the  magnificent  cathedral  tower  and  spire,  soaring  away  into 
the  air  till  it  seems  to  have  a  needle-like  sharpness,  he  gets 
almost  dizzy  with  gazing ;  and,  upon  heing  informed  that  the 
ascent  of  this  highest  spire  in  the  world  is  not  unattended 
with  danger,  of  course  all  Americans  are  seized  with  an  un- 
controllable desire  to  ascend  it ;  and  so  were  we. 

So  we  took  a  look  at  the  splendid  front,  with  the  two 
great  square  towers,  something  after  the  style  of  those  of 
York  Minster  or  Westminster  Abbey,  with  a  huge  rose  win- 
dow between  them;  the  elegant  Gothic  architecture  of 
arches,  pillars,  and  points ;  the  grand,  arched  portal,  crowded, 
every  inch  of  it,  with  carving  and  statues ;  and  finally,  up 
again  at  the  light  steeple,  which,  from  one  of  the  square 
towers,  rose  into  the  air  with  such  grace  and  boldness. 

We  enter  direct  from  the  street,  pay  the  custodian  at  the 
foot  of  a  flight  of  stairs  of  easy  ascent,  and,  ladies  and  all, 
begin  the  climb-up.  We  go  till  we  have  trodden  over  three 
hundred  and  thirty  stairs,  and  find  ourselves  two  hundred 
and  thirty  feet  above  the  street,  upon  a  place  called  the  plat- 
form. Here  are  several  rooms,  and  a  custodian  lives  up  here, 
who  acts  as  a  watchman  for  fires,  has  general  charge  of  the 
place,  keeps  a  visitors'  register,  and  sells  stereoscopic  views. 
The  panoramic  view  from  here  is  superb,  and  this  point, 
which  is  about  two  thirds  of  the  way  up,  is  as  high  as  ladies 
generally  ascend ;  for  the  remainder  of  the  ascent,  which  is 
by  circular  staircases  on  four  sides  of  the  tower,  requires 
some  nerve  and  steadiness  of  head,  the  masonry  being  of 
open-work,  with  the  apertures  nearly  large  enough  for  the 
body  to  pass  through,  while  the  staircases,  which  are  winding 
and  narrow,  are  likely  to  provoke  an  attack  of  giddiness.  I 
could  compare  the  ascent  to  nothing  but  an  ant  climbing  a 
corkscrew.  Every  turn  brought  us  to  these  great  wrought 
openings,  which,  from  the  ground,  appeared  like  delicate  lace- 
work,  and  which  seemed  to  give  one  the  feeling,  as  he  went 
round  and  round,  as  if  he  were  swinging  and  swaying  in  the 


366  CLIMBING    A    SPIRE. 

network  between  heaven  and  earth ;  and  the  wind,  which 
pipes,  whistles,  rushes,  roars,  and  sighs,  in  every  variety  of 
tone,  and  apparently  from  every  point  of  the  compass,  owing 
to  the  innumerable  and  different-shaped  openings,  adds  to 
this  illusion. 

Breathless,  we  reach  a  circular  gallery  running  round  out- 
side, and  at  the  top  of  the  square  part  of  the  steeple,  and 
pause,  clinging  to  the  stone-work  of  the  balustrade  to  look  at 
the  fine  view,  which  takes  in  Baden,  the  Black  Forest,  the 
Rhine,  and  the  chain  of  the  Jura,  in  the  distance. 

Still  higher!  Here  we  are  at  the  base  of  a  pyramid  of 
light,  ornamental  turrets,  which  gradually  converge  towards 
a  point,  and  support  the  "lantern"  above  us.  The  winding 
staircases  in  these  turrets  were  also  narrow,  and  through 
open  stone-work,  as  before,  till  you  reach  the  lantern,  an  en- 
closed observatory.  Higher  up  is  the  "  crown,"  which,  as  the 
steps  leading  to  it  are  outside,  and  with  no  other  protection 
than  the  wall  to  which  they  were  fastened,  we  did  not  care 
to  attempt.  The  total  height  of  this  lofty  spire  is  four  hun- 
dred and  sixty-eight  feet. 

The  descent  through  the  open-work  spire  to  the  platform 
where  the  ladies  were  left  was  far  more  trying  to  the  nerves 
than  the  ascent.  In  ascending,  one  is  continually  looking  up, 
and  the  open  spaces  in  the  stone-work  have  the  appearance 
of  passages  through  which  you  are  to  pass,  but  continually 
avoid  by  the  winding  of  the  staircase ;  but  in  descending, 
the  gaze  being  directed  downward,  you  have  the  vast  height 
continually  before  the  view  ;  the  huge  apertures,  which  appear 
at  your  very  feet  at  every  turn,  seem  like  yawning  crevasses, 
through  which  to  shoot  your  body  into  the  blue  distance,  or 
on  to  the  Gothic  points  and  pinnacles  that  are  far,  far  below. 
I  clung  to  the  rope  and  iron  hand-rails  convulsively,  and 
am  not  ashamed  to  mention  that,  more  than  once,  as  I  came 
to  the  more  elaborate  open-work  of  this  stone  filigree,  which 
seemed  to  dangle  between  heaven  and  earth,  I  closed  my 
eyes,  and  followed  the  rail,  feeling  the  way  downwards.  The 
descent  was  made  almost  in  silence,  and  there  was  a  sigh  of 


A    GRAND    INTERIOR.  367 

relief  when  the  platform  was  reached,  and  we  joined  the 
ladies  again. 

The  open-work  that  one  encounters  in  the  turrets  during 
the  ascent  of  the  spire,  although  scarcely  large  enough  to 
admit  the  passage  of  a  man's  body,  is  so  frequent,  and  so 
directly  on  the  staircases,  which  are  winding  and  narrow,  as 
to  give  the  semblance  of  great  danger  and  insecurity,  though 
comparatively  very  little  exists.  The  only  thing  to  be  feared 
is  giddiness,  which  might  render  it  difficult  for  the  adventurer 
to  go  up  or  down,  after  reaching  a  certain  point ;  and  it  is, 
therefore,  not  advisable  for  those  liable  to  be  affected  in  that 
manner  to  attempt  the  ascent  above  the  gallery,  which  really 
adds  very  little  to  the  view. 

Viewed  architecturally,  Strasburg  Cathedral  seems  to  bring 
together  all  the  styles  or  orders  of  architecture  of  the  mid- 
dle ages,  from  the  simplicity  of  the  Byzantine  to  the  Gothic, 
with  its  arches  and  excess  of  superfluous  ornament.  The 
facade  of  the  church,  and  especially  the  portal,  is  so  elab- 
orately ornamented  with  carved  work  as  to  convey  the  im- 
pression of  chasing,  instead  of  sculpture.  The  figures  in 
bass-relief  and  carving  represent  scenes  in  the  life  of  the 
Saviour,  the  saints,  and  the  apostles,  besides  statues  of  kings 
and  warriors. 

A  view  of  the  interior  is  grand  and  impressive.  Fourteen 
great  cluster  pillars  uphold  the  lofty  Gothic  arched  roof,  over 
a  hundred  feet  above  the  pavement.  Midway,  and  above 
arches  that  unite  the  pillars,  is  a  beautiful  Gothic  gallery 
on  both  sides,  and  many  of  the  great  stained-glass  windows, 
representing  scriptural  subjects,  are  of  wondrous  beauty. 

In  the  nave  is  a  beautiful  pulpit,  built  in  1486,  and  covered 
with  little  statues,  delicately  carved,  and  not  far  from  it  the 
organ,  up  midway  between  the  floor  and  arched  ceiling.  The 
perspective  view  in  these  old  cathedrals  is  grand,  and  figures 
hardly  give  one  an  idea  of  their  vastness.  This  cathedral  is 
five  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  long,  one  hundred  aad 
ninety-five  feet  in  width,  and  is  one  of  the  finest  of  those 
wonderful  monuments  of  religious  art  that  rose  during  the 
middle  ages. 


368  THE    STRASBURG   CLOCK. 

The  great  astronomical  clock  here  is  a  curious  and  wonder- 
ful piece  of  mechanism.  Fancy  a  structure  twenty-five  or 
thirty  feet  in  height,  and  twelve  or  fifteen  broad  at  the  base, 
having  on  either  side  two  others  nearly  of  equal  height,  one 
being  the  masonic  flight  of  winding  stairs,  surmounted  by  five 
small  emblematical  Corinthian  pillars,  and  the  other  a  Gothic 
pillar,  its  panellings  enriched  with  figures. 

Placed  directly  in  front  of  the  base  of  the  clock  is  a  celes- 
tial globe,  which,  by  means  of  the  clock-work,  shows  the 
precession  of  the  equinoxes,  solar  and  lunar  equations  for 
calculating  geocentric  ascension  and  declination  of  the  sun 
and  moon  at  true  times  and  places.  Then  in  the  base  itself 
is  au  orrery  after  the  Copernican  system,  by  which  the  mean 
tropical  revolution  of  each  of  the  planets,  visible  to  the  naked 
eye,  is  shown.  Then  comes  an  ecclesiastical  calender,  a  sort 
of  perpetual  almanac,  indicating  holy,  feast,  and  last  days ; 
above,  and  about  ten  feet  from  the  floor,  and  just  beneath  the 
clock-dial,  is  an  opening  with  a  platform  in  front,  upon  which 
come  forth  figures  representing  each  day  of  the  week,  as 
Apollo  on  Tuesday,  Diana  on  Monday,  &c.  Thus  a  figure  in 
a  chariot  representing  the  day  appeared  at  the  entrance  in  the 
morning,  it  had  reached  the  centre  in  full  view  by  noon,  and 
drove  gradually  out  of  sight  at  the  close  of  day.  On  either 
side  of  the  clock-dial  sat  two  Cupids,  the  size  of  a  three-years- 
old  child,  one  holding  a  bell  and  hammer,  with  which  it  strikes 
the  hours  and  quarters,  and  the  other  au  hour-glass,  which  it 
reverses  each  hour.  Above  is  another  dial,  with  the  signs  of 
the  zodiac ;  above  that  a  figure  of  the  moon,  showing  its  dif- 
ferent phases,  also  put  in  motion  by  the  clock-work ;  and,  still 
above  this,  two  sets  of  automaton  figures,  which  appear  only 
at  twelve  o'clock,  at  which  time  there  is  always  a  crowd 
gathered  to  witness  their  performance. 

We  viewed  this  wondrous  piece  of  mechanism  for  an  hour, 
and  witnessed  the  following  movements :  At  quarter  past 
eleven  the  Cupid  near  the  dial  struck  one  ;  then  from  one  oi 
the  upper  compartments  ran  forth  the  figure  of  a  little  child 
with  a  wand,  and  as  he  passed  he  struck  one  on  a  bell,  and 


CURIOUS    MECHANISM.  3G9 

ran  away  (Childhood,  the  first  quarter).  Round  whirl  the 
wheels  of  time,  and  the  second  quarter  chimes ;  but  this  time 
it  is  Youth  that  passes,  and  taps  the  bell  with  his  shepherd's 
staff  twined  with  flowers.  Again,  we  reach  the  third  quarter, 
and  Manhood  strides  forth,  the  mailed  warrior,  and  smites 
the  sonorous  bell,  ere  he  leaves  the  scene,  three  sounding 
blows  with  his  trenchant  weapon  —  the  third  quarter.  Once 
more,  the  hands  tremble  on  the  point  of  noon;  the  fourth 
quarter  is  here,  and  Old  Age,  a  feeble,  bent  figure,  hobbles 
out,  pauses  wearily  at  the  bell,  raises  a  crutch,  and  taps  four 
strokes,  and  totters  away  out  of  sight  —  "  last  scene  of  all," 
when,  as  a  finale,  the  skeleton  figure  of  Death,  before  whom 
all  the  four  have  passed,  slowly  raises  his  baton,  which  the 
spectator  now  discovers  to  be  a  human  bone,  and  solemnly 
strikes  the  hour  of  twelve  upon  the  bell.  While  he  is  en- 
gaged in  this  act,  a  set  of  figures  above  him,  representing  the 
twelve  apostles,  pass  in  procession  before  the  Saviour,  who 
blesses  each  as  they  pause  before  him  in  turn,  and  chanticleer, 
the  size  of  life,  perched  upon  the  pinnacle  of  one  of  the  side 
structures,  lifts  up  his  voice  in  three  rousing  crows,  with  out- 
stretched neck  and  flapping  wings,  while  the  Cupid  on  one 
side  of  the  dial  reverses  the  hour-glass  for  the  sand  to  flow 
back,  and  the  other  also  strikes  the  hour  with  his  bell  and 
hammer. 

Not  far  from  this  clock,  in  a  sort  of  niched  window,  there  is 
a  sculptured  figure,  said  to  be  that  of  the  architect  of  this 
cathedral,  represented  as  looking  towards  the  entrance  of 
the  transept,  and  in  such  position  as  to  attract  attention  and 
provoke  inquiry  —  a  cunning  device  for  perpetuating  one's 
memory  as  long  as  the  figure  shall  last. 

Before  leaving  this  fine  cathedral  we  are  reminded  of  the 
ancient  order  of  Masons  by  an  enclosure  opening  out  of  one 
of  the  chapels,  which  is  the  area  of  the  workhouse  of  the 
stone-cutters  of  the  edifice.  These  Master  Masons  down  to 
this  day  form  a  particular  and  exclusive  society,  which  origi- 
nated in  the  days  of  the  great  master  mason  and  architect  of 
this  cathedral,  Erwin  of  Steinbach,  who  rebuilt  the  nave  in 
24 


370  THE    CLOCK   AT   BASLE. 

1275,  commenced  the  facade  of  the  church,  designed  its  towers, 
and  superintended  the  work  and  the  carrying  out  of  the  grand 
designs  in  its  construction  through  various  vicissitudes  till  his 
death  in  1318. 

The  masons  of  this  cathedral  were  distinct  from  other 
operative  masons,  did  not  admit  all  who  presented  themselves, 
and  had  secret  signs,  known  only  to  each  other.  From  the 
lodge  of  this  cathedral  emanated  several  others  in  Germany, 
and  a  general  meeting  of  the  masters  was  held  at  Ratisbon 
in  1459,  at  which  they  were  united  under  one  government  or 
jurisdiction,  and  the  Grand  Masters  chosen  on  that  occasion 
were  the  architects  of  the  cathedral  at  Strasburg,  in  which 
city  the  Grand  Lodge  was  then  established. 

The  Emperor  Maximilian  I.  confirmed  the  establishment 
of  this  body  October  3,  1498,  and  it  remained  here  till  the 
early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  when  it  was  removed  to 
Mayence.  With  this  bit  of  masonic  history  we  will  bid  adieu 
to  Strasburg  Cathedral. 

The  Church  of  St.  Thomas  looks  inferior  after  it,  though 
its  magnificent  monument  to  Marshal  Saxe  is  one  of  the 
sights  of  the  city.  As  we  ride  through  the  streets  we  see 
long-legged  storks  soaring  far  overhead,  and  perched  on  a 
tall  old  chimney-stack,  behold  the  brushwood  nest  of  one  of 
these  long-billed  residents. 

We  view  the  bronze  statue  of  Guttenberg,  who  made  his 
first  experiments  in  the  newly-discovered  art  preservative  of 
arts  in  this  city  in  1436,  and  four  hundred  years  afterwards 
he  is  remembered  in  this  bronze  memorial. 

I  don't  know  what  it  was  in  particular  that  made  me  wish 
to  see  Basle,  except  it  was,  that  when  a  youngster,  I  read  of 
a  curious  old  clock  which  the  inhabitants  on  one  side  of  the 
river  put  up  to  mock  those  on  the  other,  which,  the  story  said, 
it  did  by  sticking  out  its  tongue  and  rolling  its  eyes  at  every 
motion  of  the  pendulum;  so,  when  domiciled  at  the  hotel 
of  the  Three  Kings  in  that  ancient  town,  I  looked  out  on  the 
swift-flowing  Rhine,  and  as  I  gazed  at  the  splendid  bridge, 
nearly  a  thousand  feet  long,  wondered  if  that  was  the  one 


MEDIAEVAL    SCENES.  371 

over  which  the  wondrous  head  had  ogled  and  mocked.  Fancy 
my  disappointment  at  being  shown  at  the  collection  of  an- 
tiquities a  wooden  face  scarcely  twice  the  size  of  life,  which 
is  said  to  be  the  veritable  Lollenkonig,  or  lolling  king,  that 
used  to  go  through  this  performance  in  the  clock  toAver  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  till  1839.  Here,  in  this  collection,  which 
is  in  a  hall  or  vestry  attached  to  the  cathedral,  we  saw  many 
curiosities ;  among  them  the  arm-chair  of  Erasmus ;  for  it  was 
here  in  Basle  that  Erasmus,  it  will  be  recollected,  waged 
bitter  war  with  the  Church  of  Rome ;  here  also  was  preserved 
all  that  remains  of  the  celebrated  frescoes,  the  Dance  of  Death, 
painted  in  the  fifteenth  century,  and  ascribed  to  Holbein. 
The  cathedral,  a  solid  old  Gothic  structure,  has  some  finely 
ornamented  ancient  arched  portals,  and  its  two  towers  are 
eacli  two  hundred  feet  in  height. 

Going  through  some  of  the  quaint,  old-fashioned  streets  of 
Basle,  we  were  struck  with  the  quiet,  antique,  theatrical-can- 
vas-look which  they  had.  Here  was  an  old  circular  stone 
fountain,  at  which  horses  could  drink  and  the  people  fill  their 
jars ;  the  pavement  was  irregular,  and  the  houses  were  of 
odd  architecture,  which  we  in  America,  who  have  not  been 
abroad,  are  more  than  half  inclined  to  think  exist  only  in  the 
imagination  of  artists,  or  are  the  fancy  of  scene-painters.  1 
came  upon  one  of  these  very  scenes  which  I  have  before  re- 
ferred to,  in  this  old  city,  and  stood  alone  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  looking  at  the  curious  street  that  lay  silent  in  the  sun- 
shine, with  scarce  a  feature  of  it  changed  since  the  days  of  the 
Reformation,  when  Basle  held  so  important  a  position  in  the 
history  of  Switzerland,  and  "Erasmus  laid  the  egg  that 
Luther  hatched ; "  and  had  a  group  of  cavaliers  in  doublet 
and  hose,  or  a  soldier  with  iron  cap  and  partisan,  sauntered 
through  the  street,  they  would  all  have  been  so  much  in 
keeping  with  the  scene  as  to  have  scarcely  excited  a  second 
glance  at  them. 

In  the  evening  we  attended  one  of  those  cheap  musical 
entertainments  which  are  so  enjoyable  here  in  the  summer 
season  of  the  year.    It  was  given  in  a  large  building,  one  side 


872  SWISS    RAILWAYS. 

of  which  opened  on  the  river  bank ;  and  while  thirty  pieces 
of  music  played  grand  compositions,  sprightly  waltzes,  or  in- 
spiriting marches,  we  sat  at  the  little  tables,  with  hundreds  of 
other  listeners,  who  sipped  light  wines  or  beer,  enjoyed  the 
evening  air,  and  looked  out  upon  the  dark  cathedral  towers, 
the  lights  of  the  town  reflected  in  the  swift  stream  of  the 
Rhine,  watched  the  small  boats  continually  passing  and  re- 
passing, marked  "  the  light  drip  of  the  suspended  oar,"  com- 
ing pleasantly  to  the  ear,  as  they  paused  to  listen  to  the  mel- 
ody, while  now  and  then  the  tall,  dark  form  of  some  great 
Dutch  lugger-looking  craft  of  a  Rhine  boat  moved  past,  like  a 
huge  spectre  out  of  the  darkness  —  a  dreamy  sort  of  scene, 
the  realization  of  old  Dutch  paintings,  half  darkened  with 
age,  that  I  have  often  gazed  at  when  a  boy.  And  all  this 
fine  music  and  pleasant  lounge  for  half  a  franc  (eleven  cents). 

"Wines  extra?" 

Yes.  We  called  for  a  half  flask,  prime  quality ;  price,  a 
franc  and  a  half  more ;  total,  forty-four  cents.  But  then  we 
were  luxurious ;  for  beer  that  was  "  magniftque"  could  be  had 
in  a  "  gros  pot "  for  three  cents. 

We  rode  from  Basle  to  Zurich  in  a  luxurious,  easy,  comfort- 
able drawing-room  car,  which  a  party  of  us  —  six  American 
tourists  —  had  all  to  ourselves,  and  whirled  through  long  tun- 
nels, and  amid  lovely  scenery,  in  striking  contrast  to  our  hot, 
uncomfortable  railroad  ride  from  Strasburg  to  Basle.  The 
Swiss  railway  carriages  are  on  the  American  plan,  and  the 
line  of  the  road  itself  kept  in  exquisite  order.  The  houses  of 
the  switchmen  were  pretty  little  rustic  buildings,  covered  with 
running  flowering  vines,  plats  of  flowers  before  them,  and  not 
a  bit  of  rubbish  or  a  speck  of  dirt  to  be  seen  about  them. 
The  little  country  stations  are  neatly  kept,  and  have  flower 
gardens  around  them ;  and,  as  we  passed  one  crossing  where 
two  roads  met,  a  diamond-shaped  plat,  about  twenty  feet 
space,  enclosed  by  the  crossing  of  three  tracks,  was  brilliant 
with  its  array  of  red,  blue,  and  yellow  flowers.  At  the  sta- 
tions and  stopping-places  there  seemed  to  be  special  pains 
taken  to  keep  the  rude,  unsightly  objects,  that  are  seen  at 


TRAVELLING   IN    SWITZERLAND.  373 

stations  in  America  lying  about  uncared  for,  out  of  sight. 
Here,  and  in  Germany,  we  notice  the  red  poppy  scattered  in 
and  growing  among  the  wheat,  which  one  would  svippose 
must  injure  the  grain  ;  but  the  people  say  not,  though  it  im- 
parts, I  think,  a  slightly  perceptible  bitter  taste  to  the  bread. 

We  seem  now  to  have  got  thoroughly  into  a  land  where 
they  know  how  to  treat  travellers,  that  is,  properly  appreciate 
the  value  of  tourist  patronage,  and  treat  them  accordingly ; 
and  well  they  may,  for  a  large  portion  of  the  Swiss  people 
make  their  living  for  the  year  off  summer  tourists. 

Notwithstanding  this,  and  notwithstanding  the  English 
grumblers  who  scold  at  these  better  hotels,  better  railway 
accommodations,  and  better  attention  than  they  can  get  any- 
where else,  —  notwithstanding  the  shoddy  Americans,  whose 
absurd  parade,  lavish  expenditure  of  money,  ignorance,  and 
boorish  manners  make  them  a  source  of  mortification  to  edu- 
cated men,  and  have  served,  in  France  and  Italy  during  the 
past  few  years,  almost  to  double  certain  travelling  expenses, 
—  notwithstanding  this,  the  traveller  will  be  more  honorably 
dealt  with,  and  less  liable  to  be  cheated,  in  Switzerland  than 
elsewhere  in  Europe.  Efforts  are  made  to  induce  travellers 
to  come  often,  and  stay  long.  Roads,  passes,  and  noted  points 
ai-e  made  as  accessible  as  possible,  and  kept  in  good  order 
during  the  season.  No  impositions  are  allowed  by  guides, 
post-drivers,  &c,  and  the  hotel-keepers  strive  in  every  way  to 
make  their  houses  as  attractive  as  possible  in  every  respect  to 
the  guest,  who  enjoys  the  real  luxury  of  an  elegant  hotel,  in 
an  attractive  or  celebrated  resort,  at  a  reasonable  price,  and 
does  not  suffer  to  that  extent  the  same  irritation  that  he  ex- 
periences in  England  or  America  at  such  places  —  of  knowing 
he  is  being  deliberately  swindled  in  every  possible  manner. 

Here  we  are  in  Zurich,  —  "  by  the  margin  of  Zurich's  fair 
waters,"  —  at  the  Hotel  Baur  au  Lac,  fronting  Lake  Zurich  — 
a  large  and  beautiful  hotel,  with  an  extensive  garden,  with 
flowers,  shrubs,  and  pretty  walks  in  front  of  it.  Our  windows 
command  a  full  view  of  the  beautiful  lake,  with  its  sides  en- 
livened with  chalets,  villages,  vineyards,  and  a  highly-oulti- 


374  ZURICH   AND    ITS    SCENERY. 

vated  country,  while  in  the  background  rise  the  snow  peaks 
of  the  Alps,  glittering  in  the  morning  sunlight,  or  rosy  in  its 
parting  rays.  There  was  the  great  Reiseltstock,  looming  up 
over  eighty-six  hundred  feet,  the  Kammtistock,  very  nearly 
ten  thousand  feet,  between  which  and  the  Scheerhorn  is  im- 
bedded a  great  glacier,  the  Bristenstock,  and  other  "  stocks  " 
and  "  horns  "  that  I  have  not  noted  down,  and  therefore  for- 
gotten, save  that  even  in  the  distance  they  looked  magnifi- 
cently grand,  and  like  great  altars  with  their  snowy  coverings 
lifted  up  to  heaven. 

The  scenery  of  mountain,  lake,  and  valley,  seen  from  the 
promenades  in  Zurich,  like  grand  pictures  framed  in  the  rim 
of  the  horizon,  and  j)resenting  charming  aspects,  varied  by  the 
setting  sun,  give  the  tourist  a  foretaste  of  the  picturesque 
beauty  of  the  country  he  is  now  just  entering.  Lake  Zurich, 
or  the  Zuricher  See,  as  they  call  it,  looked  so  pretty  and 
romantic  that  we  determined  to  embark  on  one  of  the  little 
steamboats,  and  sail  up  and  down  it,  to  know  and  enjoy  it 
better.  So,  after  enjoying  the  creature  comforts  of  the  fine 
hotel,  and  fortified  with  a  good  night's  rest,  we  embarked  in 
the  morning. 

This  lake  is  twenty-five  miles  long,  and,  at  its  broadest  part, 
two  and  a  half  miles  wide.  As  we  sailed  along,  we  noted  the 
beautiful  slopes  of  the  hills,  which  are  finely  cultivated  at  the 
base,  close  down  to  the  little  villages  on  the  shore.  Above 
are  vineyards  and  orchards,  and  still  farther  up,  the  dark- 
green  forests  clothe  the  hills,  which  lift  their  frontlets  twenty- 
five  hundred  feet  above  the  clear  mirror  that  reflects  them  on 
its  surface.  We  passed  numerous  picturesque  little  villages, 
making  landings  on  alternate  shores  as  we  proceeded.  Here 
was  Thalwyl,  charmingly  situated,  Horgen,  with  its  hotel  and 
charming  garden  upon  the  lake  front,  the  picturesque  little 
wooded  peninsula  of  Au,  and  a  pretty  little  village  of  Manne- 
dorf,  behind  which  rises  a  romantic  height,  called  some  sort 
of  a  "  stiel "  or  "  horn."  And  so  we  glided  along,  sometimes 
stopping  at  little  villages  that  seemed,  as  we  approached 
them,  children's  toys  upon  a  green  carpet,  this  effect  height- 


LAKE    ZURICH.  375 

ened  by  the  huge  mountains,  which  rose  grand  and  sublime  in 
the  distance ;  but  they  had  all  that  novelty  so  charming  to 
the  tourist  —  their  odd-shaped  little  churches,  and  curious 
and  quaint  houses  nestling  in  romantic  nooks,  and  the  occa- 
sional odd  dress  worn  by  peasants  who  had  come  down  from 
the  interior,  and  the  customs  which  to  us  seemed  so  old- 
fashioned. 

We  found  our  steamer  was  a  mail-boat,  and  at  one  station, 
instead  of  the  usual  official  in  waiting,  the  sole  occupant  of 
the  little  pier  was  a  huge  Newfoundland  dog,  who  seized  the 
little  mail-pouch,  holding  perhaps  a  couple  of  quarts,  that  was 
tossed  ashore,  and  galloped  off  with  it  at  full  speed  for  the 
village,  half  a  mile  distant,  to  the  infinite  amusement  of  the 
spectators.  He  Avas  the  regular  mail-carrier,  performing  the 
service  twice  a  day  of  bringing  down  the  mail-pouch,  which 
he  deposited  on  the  pier  on  the  arrival  of  the  boat,  and  carry- 
ing back  the  one  which  was  left  by  it. 

We  went  on  shore  at  a  town  bearing  the  delightfully- 
euphonious  name  of  Rapperschwyl  —  a  picturesque  old  place, 
with  an  old  castle  and  church,  and  wooded  heights,  which 
command  fine  views.  At  this  point  a  fine  bridge,  forty-five 
hundred  feet  long,  and  supported  by  one  hundred  and  eighty 
oaken  pillars,  crosses  the  lake.  So  we  strolled  over  it,  and 
through  the  town,  which  contains  about  two  thousand  inhab- 
itants, looked  at  the  old  church  and  castle,  and  then  reem- 
barked  on  the  return  steamer,  once  more  to  admire  the  beauty 
of  the  scenery  of  the  lake  shores  in  this  romantic  region,  and 
birthplace  of  Switzerland's  freedom. 


376  THE   RIGHI. 


.  CHAPTER   X. 

Now  let  us  tighten  our  girdles  for  our  first  experience  in 
Swiss  mountain-climbing,  for  we  start  for  Righi  at  nine  A.  M., 
on  the  summit  of  which  we  propose  to  see  the  sun  set,  and 
watch  his  rising  on  the  morrow.  Out  of  the  handsome  rail- 
way station  we  ride  in  an  elegant  and  comfortable  car,  and 
in  two  hours  are  at  the  steamboat  landing  at  Lake  Zug,  one 
of  the  most  picturesque  sheets  of  water  in  Switzerland  —  an 
azure  pond  nine  miles  in  length;  and,  as  we  float  upon  its 
blue  bosom,  we  see  the  object  of  our  excursion,  Righi-Kulm, 
which  towers  full  forty-two  hundred  feet  above  the  lake. 
The  "  Righi "  consists  of  a  group  of  mountains  lying  between 
the  three  Swiss  lakes  of  Zug,  Lucerne,  and  Lowerz,  and  "  Righi- 
Kulm  "  is  the  Righi  summit,  or  highest  peak  —  fifty-five  hun- 
dred and  forty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  We  disem- 
bark at  Arth,  get  a  bad  dinner,  or  lunch,  of  tough  chicken, 
poor  soup,  and  bad  claret,  and  start  away  for  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  in  an  open  carriage,  with  our  saddle  horses,  mules, 
and  guides  rattling  along  behind  us,  for  the  ascent.  Half  an 
hour  brings  us  to  Goldau. 

Goldau !  And  as  I  stood  on  the  high  road,  and  looked 
over  into  what  was  once  the  little  valley  where  stood  the  vil- 
lage, and  marked  the  track  of  the  tremendous  avalanche  of  a 
thousand  feet  broad  and  a  hundred  feet  thick,  which  started 
three  thousand  feet  above,  from  the  mountain,  on  its  resistless 
career  of  destruction,  my  memory  went  back  to  days  in  the 
public  schools  of  Boston,  where,  from  that  best  of  compilations 
as  a  school  reader,  John  Pierpont's  American  First  Class 
Book,  we  used  to  read  the  "  Lament  of  a  Swiss  Minstrel  over 
the  Ruins  of  Goldau,"  commencing,  — 

"  O  Switzerland,  my  country,  'tis  to  thee 
I  strike  n>y  harp  in  agony,  —  " 


GUIDES    AND   ALPENSTOCKS.  377 

and  in  which  the   author  describes  the  catastrophe,  more 
graphically  than  grammatically,  perhaps,  as  follows  :  — 

"  An  everlasting  hill  was  torn 
From  its  primeval  base,  and  borne, 
In  gold  and  crimson  vapors  dressed, 
To  where  a  people  are  at  rest. 
Slowly  it  came  in  its  mountain  wrath, 
And  the  forests  vanished  before  its  path, 
And  the  rude  cliffs  bowed,  and  the  waters  fled, 
And  the  living  were  buried,  while  over  their  head 
They  heard  the  full  march  of  their  foe  as  he  sped, 
And  the  valley  of  life  was  the  tomb  of  the  dead." 

But  this  avalanche  occurred  over  half  a  century  ago,  and 
may  be  it  is  too  old-fashioned  to  recall  its  story,  though  it  will 
long  live  in  historic  record  as  destroying  four  villages,  and 
overwhelming  five  hundred  of  their  inhabitants.  The  sole 
trace  of  it  now  is  the  track  of  the  avalanche  on  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  and  some  few  huge  bowlders  piled  together 
here  and  there  in  the  valley,  which  have  not  been  covered  by 
the  hand  of  time  with  vegetation. 

And  here  our  party  descended  from  the  carriage,  and 
mounted  their  horses  preparatory  to  the  ascent.  A  young 
physician  and  the  author  concluded  that  their  first  experience 
in  Alpine  travel  should  be  pedestrian ;  we  therefore  started 
up  our  mules,  riderless,  after  the  rest  of  the  party,  and,  like 
all  fresh  tourists,  stepped  into  a  house  here  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  to  purchase  our  first  alpenstocks.  These,  as  every- 
one knows,  are  stout  staffs,  about  six  feet  in  length,  with  an 
iron  spike  at  one  end  and  a  hook  of  chamois  horn  at  the 
other — the  latter  ornament  being  generally  an  imitation, 
made  of  the  head  ornament  of  the  common  goat,  blackened 
and  polished.  Nevertheless,  the  alpenstocks  are  of  great 
assistance ;  indeed,  the  tourist  who  makes  any  attempts  at 
pedestrianism  among  the  Alpine  passes  will  find  them  almost 
an  absolute  necessity. 

Away  went  the  string  of  mules  and  guides  with  our  merry 
party  on  their  winding  way.     The  Swiss  guides  are  excellent, 


378  CHEESE    AND    HONEY. 

and  in  many  pa  rts  of  the  country  they  seem  to  be  formed  into 
associations,  and  under  the  best  of  regulations  to  prevent  any 
imposition  upon  travellers,  or  the  employment  of  unskilled 
guides. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  excellence  of  their  regulations,  we 
copy  a  few  of  those  of  the  Righi  guides :  — 

"  The  horses  must  be  sound  and  strong,  the  gear  in  good 
order.  The  chief  of  guides,  who  holds  office  under  the  super- 
intendence of  the  burgomaster,  is  responsible  for  the  obser- 
vance of  the  regulations ;  and  he  shall  maintain  order  among 
the  guides,  render  assistance  to  travellers,  and  inform  against 
any  infraction  of  the  rules.  Guides  are  forbidden  to  impor- 
tune travellers.  Civility  and  sobriety  are  strictly  enjoined,  and 
guides  are  personally  responsible  for  luggage  intrusted  to 
them.  Guides  are  forbidden  to  ask  for  gratuities  in  excess  of 
the  regular  tariff.  The  chief  of  guides  has  sole  right  to 
offer  borses  to  tourists,  without,  however,  dictating  their 
choice,"  &c. 

Having  procured  our  alpenstocks,  we  follow  on  over  the 
broad,  pleasant  road  of  the  first  part  of  the  ascent,  through 
the  woods,  hearing  the  voices  of  our  fellow-tourists,  and  now 
and  then  catching  a  glimpse  of  them,  as  they  zigzag  across 
the  hill-side,  and  beat  gradually  up  its  steep  height ;  we  begin 
to  come  to  the  little  mountain  waterfalls,  foaming  and  tum- 
bling over  the  rocks  on  their  way  to  feed  the  lake  below ;  pass 
through  scenery  of  the  character  not  unlike  the  commence- 
ment of  the  ascent  of  Mount  Washington,  in  New  Hamp- 
shire, until  finally  we  reach  a  halting-place  — "  Righi  Inn." 
Bread,  cheese  —  pah!  the  very  smell  of  it  caused  all  to 
beat  a  retreat;  and  the  inevitable  Swiss  honey,  and  good 
French  wine,  were  offered  here.  Causing  a  removal  of  the 
cheese,  we  refreshed  ourselves  with  the  bread,  wine,  and 
honey,  and,  with  renewed  vigor,  pushed  on. 

Now  the  path  is  more  open,  we  pass  little  crosses,  or  pray- 
ing-places, and  can  see  them  at  intervals  up  the  mountain ; 
they  mark  the  halting-places  of  pilgrims  to  a  little  chapel 
above  us,  known  as  the  chapel  of  "  Our  Lady  of  the  Snow ; " 
and  their  frequency  does  not  argue  so  much  in  favor  of  the 


CLIMBING    THE    ALPS.  379 

endurance  oi' the  pilgrims'  powers  of  wind  and  muscle  as  it 
does  of  their  devotion.  This  little  chapel  is  inhabited  by  Cap- 
uchin monks,  was  built  in  1689,  and  pilgrimages  are  generally 
made  to  it  and  Mass  celebrated  once  a  year. 

After  about  two  hours'  climbing  we  find  ourselves  at  a 
place  called  Oberes  Dllchli,  and  half  way  up  the  ascent ;  now 
we  leave  the  woods  below,  and  begin  to  have  a  view  of  huge 
peaks  rising  all  about  us ;  as  we  mount  still  higher,  the  air 
grows  pure,  bracing,  and  invigorating.  Pedestrians  think 
climbing  the  Alps  is  pastime,  songs  are  sung  with  a  will,  and 
American  songs,  especially  the  choruses,  make  the  guides 
stare  with  astonishment. 

Hurrah  !  Here  is  Righi  Staffel,  four  thousand  nine  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  a  good  hour's  pull  from 
our  last  halt ;  and  now  our  guides  lead  us  out  to  a  sort  of 
bend  in  the  pathway,  and  we  begin  to  see  what  we  have 
climbed  to  enjoy.  From  this  bend,  which  overhangs,  and 
seems  to  form,  as  it  were,  a  sort  of  proscenium  box  of  the 
scene,  we  look  down  on  the  grand  view  below  us  —  Lake 
Lucerne,  Arth,  the  road  we  have  passed,  the  mountains  swell- 
ing blue  in  the  distance. 

What  beautiful  views  we  have  had  as  we  ascended !  An 
attenrpt  at  description  would  be  but  a  series  of  rhapsodies. 
Let  any  one  who  has  seen  the  view  from  the  Catskill  Moun- 
tains imagine  the  scene  filled  in  with  eight  Swiss  lakes  shining 
in  the  sunlight,  dozens  of  Swiss  villages  in  the  valleys,  chap- 
els on  the  mountain-sides,  ribbons  of  rivers  sparkling  in  the 
distance,  the  melodious  tinkle  of  cow-bells  from  the  many 
herds  on  the  mountain-sides  below,  coming  up  like  the  faint 
notes  of  a  musical  box,  and  the  whole  framed  by  a  lofty  chain 
of  mountain  peaks,  that  seem  to  rim  in  the  picture  in  a  vast 
oval.  The  view  changed  twenty  times  in  the  ascent,  and  a 
faint  idea  may  be  had  of  its  grandeur  and  beauty. 

"  But  wait  till  you  reach  the  Kulm,  if  you  want  to  see  a 
view,"  says  one,  pointing  to  the  tip-top  hotel  of  the  mountain, 
on  its  great  platform  above  us. 

"  Will  monsieur  ride  now  ?  " 


380  GAINING   THE    SUMMIT. 

"  Pshaw !     No." 

The  rest  of  the  distance  is  so  short — just  up  there  —  that 
monsieur,  though  breathless  and  fatigued,  will  do  no  such 
thing,  and  so  sits  down  on  a  broad,  flat  stone,  to  look  at  the 
view  and  recover  wind  for  the  last  brief  "  spurt,"  as  he  thinks ; 
and  the  guide,  with  a  smile,  starts  on. 

We  have  learned  a  lesson  of  the  deceptive  appearance  of 
distance  in  the  mountains,  for  what  appeared  at  most  a  ten 
minutes'  journey,  was  a  good  half  hour's  vigorous  climb 
before  the  hotel  of  Righi-Kulm  was  gained ;  and  we  stood 
breathless  and  exhausted  in  the  portico,  mentally  vowing 
never  to  attempt  mountain  climbing  on  foot  when  horses 
could  be  had  —  a  vow  with  which,  perhaps,  the  last  portion  of 
the  journey  over  a  path  made  slippery  by  a  shower,  making 
the  pedestrian's  ascent  resemble  that  of  the  arithmetical  frog 
in  the  well,  whose  retrogression  amounted  to  two  thirds  of 
his  progression,  had  something  to  do  —  and  a  vow  which,  it 
is  unnecessary  to  say,  was  not  rigidly  adhered  to. 

But  Righi-Kulm  was  gained.  Here  we  were,  at  a  large, 
well-kept  hotel.  The  rattle  of  the  French,  German,  Italian,  and 
English  tongues  tells  us  that  Switzerland  has  attractions  for 
all  nations,  and  the  fame  of  her  natural  scenery  attracts  all 
to  worship  at  its  shrine.  A  brief  rest,  after  our  nearly  four 
hours'  journey,  and  we  are  called  out,  one  and  all,  to  see  the 
sun  set.  Forth  we  went,  and  mounted  on  a  high,  broad  plat- 
form, a  great,  flat,  table-like  cliff,  which,  when  contemplating 
the  scene  below,  I  could  liken  only  to  a  Titanic  sacrificial 
altar,  erected  to  the  Most  High,  it  jutted  out  so  towards 
heaven,  with  all  the  world  below  it. 

But  were  we  to  be  disappointed  in  the  sunset? 

Look !  huge  clouds  are  rising ;  one  already  veils  the  sun, 
its  edges  crimsoned,  and  its  centre  translucent.  A  moment 
more  and  the  cloudy  veil  is  torn  aside  as  by  the  hand  of  a 
genie,  and  as  the  red  rays  of  the  great  orb  of  day  blaze  into 
our  faces  like  a  huge  conflagration,  a  universal  burst  of  admi- 
ration follows  at  one  of  the  grandest  and  most  magnificent 
views  the  eye  of  man  can  look  upon.     The  sudden  effect  of 


MAGNIFICENT    SPECTACLE.  381 

the-  sunburst  revealed  a  spectacle  that  was  like  a  vision  ot 
the  promised  land. 

We  realized  now  how  "  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the 
view."  That  blue  atmosphere  of  distance,  that  seems  to 
paint  everything  with  its  softening  finish,  is  exquisite  here. 
Lake  Lucerne  was  at  our  very  feet,  and  looked  as  though  we 
might  toss  a  pebble  into  it ;  eight  other  lakes,  calm  and  still, 
and  looking  like  polished  blue  steel  plates  resting  in  the  land- 
scape, flashed  in  the  sunbeams,  the  little  water-craft  like  motes 
upon  their  surface  ;  silver  ribbons  of  rivers  glittered  on  the 
bosom  of  the  mountains  like  necklaces,  while  villages  ap- 
peared like  pearls  scattered  on  the  dark-green  carpet  below, 
and  we  looked  right  through  a  great  rainbow,  "  the  half  of  the 
signet  ring  of  the  Almighty,"  at  one,  and  the  landscape  about 
it  —  a  singular  and  beautiful  effect.  Villages,  lakes,  land- 
scapes were  seen,  as  it  were,  through  a  river  of  light  in  a 
great  panorama  of  hundreds  of  miles  in  extent,  forming  a 
view  the  grandeur  and  splendor  of  which  it  is  impossible  to 
describe. 

But  while  we  are  looking  at  this  wondrous  picture,  the  sun 
sinks  lower,  and  we  raise  our  gaze  to  the  grand  chain  of 
mountains,  whose  edges  are  now  fringed  with  fire,  or  their 
snow  peaks  glowing  in  rose  tints,  sending  back  reflections 
from  their  blue  glaciers,  or  sparkling  in  the  latent  rays. 
There  rises  the  great  chain  of  Bernese  Alps. 
There  are  mountains  —  eight,  ten,  twelve  thousand  feet 
into  the  air.  How  sharply  they  are  printed  against  the  sky ! 
and  how  they  roll  away  off  towards  the  horizon  in  a  great 
billowy  swell,  till  lost  in  the  far  distance,  the  white-topped 
peak  of  one  tall  sentinel  just  visible,  touched  by  the  arrowy 
beam  of  the  sun  that  glances  from  his  icy  helmet ! 

Look  which  way  you  may,  and  a  new  scene  of  surpassing 
beauty  chains  the  attention.  Here  rises  rugged  old  Pilatus, 
almost  from  the  bosom  of  Lake  Lucerne ;  beyond  Lucerne,  the 
whole  canton  is  spread  out  to  view,  with  a  little  river  crin- 
kling through  it,  like  a  strip  of  silver  bullion  thread  ;  away  off* 
at  one  side,  the  top  of  the  Cathedral  of  Zurich  catches  the 


382  A   PLEASANT    SURPRISE. 

eye ;  down  at  our  very  feet,  on  the  lake,  is  a  little  speck  — 
Tell's  Chapel ;  right  around  us  rise  the  Righi  group  of  moun- 
tains, green  to  their  summits,  and  in  contrast  to  the  perpetual 
snow  mantles  of  the  distant  Bernese.  But  the  sun,  which  has 
been  like  a  huge  glittering  and  red,  flashing  shield,  is  now 
only  showing  a  flaming  edge  of  fire  behind  the  apparently 
tallest  peak,  making  it  look  like  the  flame  bursting  from  a 
volcano  ;  the  landscape  is  deepening  in  huge  shadows,  which 
we  can  see  are  cast  by  the  mountains,  half  obscuring  it  from 
view;  the  blaze  is  fainter  —  it  is  extinguished ;  a  few  moments 
of  red,  fiery  glow  where  it  sank,  and  anon  a  great,  rushing 
group  of  clouds,  and  the  blackness  of  night  closes  in,  and  the 
fierce  rush  of  the  Alpine  wind  is  upon  us. 

We  turned  and  groped  our  way  back  to  the  house,  whose 
brightly-lighted  windows  spoke  of  comfort  within ;  and  round 
the  board  at  the  meal,  which  served  alike  for  dinner  and  sup- 
per, Ave  exhausted  the  vocabulary  of  terms  of  admiration 
over  the  grand  spectacle  we  had  just  witnessed,  which 
seemed  worth  a  journey  across  the  Atlantic  to  see. 

At  the  supper  table,  we  fraternize  with  other  Americans 
from  different  parts  of  our  country ;  and  even  the  reserved 
and  reticent  Englishman  finds  it  pleasant  to  converse,  or 
address  a  few  words  to  those  he  has  not  been  introduced  to, 
it  is  "so  pleasant  to  talk  one's  own  language,  you  know." 
Out  in  a  little  sanded  sitting-room,  where  cigars  and  warming 
fluids  were  enjoyed  before  retiring,  the  attention  of  us  Amer- 
icans was  attracted  to  an  old  and  familiar  friend,  whose  un- 
looked-for presence  in  this  quarter  was  no  less  surprising 
than  it  was  gratifying  to  our  national  pride.  It  was  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  a  print  of  Trumbull's  well-known  picture 
of  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  suspended  over  the  mantel- 
piece. There  were  General  Warren,  falling  into  the  arms  of 
the  shirt-sleeved  soldier,  and  the  British  captain,  pushing 
aside  the  bayonets  that  were  thrust  at  his  prostrate  figure. 
There  was  Pitcairn,  falling  backwards  from  the  redoubt,  shot 
dead  in  the  moment  of  victory  by  the  colored  soldier  in  the 
foreground.     And  there  was  old  Putnam,  waving  his  swoH 


NIGHT    ON    TUB   MOUNTAIN    TOP.  383 

over  his  head  at  the  advancing  grenadiers  —  the  very  same 
old  picture  that  every  one  of  us  had  seen  in  our  histories  and 
geographies  in  school-boy  days. 

"The  thing  was  neither  rich  nor  rare, 
But  how  the  devil  it  got  there," 

away  up  at  the  top  of  one  of  the  Alps,  was  the  wonder. 

However,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that,  after  its  dis- 
covery, the  toast  of  America  and  Switzerland  was  drank, 
with  all  the  honors.  Now  that  the  night  had  come  down, 
we  could  hear  the  mountain  wind  roaring  around  the  house, 
as  if  it  were  clamoring  for  admittance ;  but  the  great  dining- 
hall  was  full  of  light  and  cheerfulness ;  tourists  of  different 
nationalities  recounted  their  adventures  in  little  groups,  and 
the  Swiss  carved  work,  which  was  brought  out  and  spread 
upon  the  tables  for  sale,  found  many  purchasers  among  those 
who  desired  to  preserve  a  memento  of  their  visit  to  the  top 
of  Mount  Rhigi. 

We  were  warned  to  retire  early,  as  all  would  be  roused  at 
four  A.  M.,  next  morning,  to  witness  a  sunrise,  which  we  were 
assured  was  infinitely  more  grand  than  sunset. 

It  was  easier  for  me  to  get  to  bed  than  to  sleep.  The 
fatigue  of  the  climb,  the  bracing  effect  of  the  atmosphere, 
the  remembrance  of  the  superb  panorama,  and,  besides  this, 
the  rush,  roar,  and  whistle  of  the  mountain  breeze  which  rat- 
tled at  the  casement,  all  served  to  banish  sleep  from  my  eyes 
till  the  time  arrived  when  the  horn  should  have  sounded  for 
sunrise;  but  it  did  not,  because  of  the  thick  clouds,  as  I 
heard  from  the  few  restless  ones  who  clattered  through  the 
corridors ;  and  so,  relieved  of  the  expectancy  of  the  call,  I 
sank  into  slumber,  broken  only  by  morning's  light,  although 
thick  clouds  veiled  the  god  of  day  from  view. 

There  appeared  no  prospect  of  clear  weather ;  and  so,  after 
a  late  breakfast,  our  horses  were  ordered,  and  we  began  the 
descent,  which,  for  the  first  half  hour,  was  damp  and  cheerless 
enough,  and  made  the  coats  and  water-proofs  we  had  been 
thoughtful  enough  to  bring  comfortable  accessories.     But,  as 


384  THE    YODLYN. 

we  were  slowly  winding  clown  the  mountain,  the  clouds  began 
to  break;  the  wind  had  changed;  gap  after  gap  was  rent  in 
the  vapor,  which  was  rolled  off  at  one  side  in  great  heaps ; 
the  bright  blue  sky  looked  through  the  rifts,  and  the  land- 
scape began  to  come  out  in  great  patches  below ;  away  went 
the  clouds ;  what  had  seemed  a  great,  dull  curtain  was  broken 
up  into  sheets  of  billowy  mist  and  huge  patches  of  vapor, 
slowly  rolling  away  in  the  distance,  or  heaping  up  in  silvery 
banks ;  and  below  once  more  came  out  the  blue,  quiet  lakes, 
the  white  villages,  and  the  lovely  landscape,  while  above, 
even  above  the  clouds  themselves,  would  start  great  peaks, 
round  which  they  clung  like  fleecy  garlands. 

The  rain-drops  sparkled  on  the  grass  and  bushes  as  I  sat 
on  a  projecting  cliff  gazing  at  the  scene,  and  the  train  of  my 
companions  wound  out  of  sight,  their  voices  growing  fainter 
and  fainter,  till  lost  in  the  distance,  and  all  was  silent. 
There  was  no  song  of  bird,  or  chirp  of  insect  —  a  mountain 
solitude  of  stillness  unbroken,  when  just  below  me  came  up 
that  peculiar  and  melodious  cry  of  the  Alpine  shepherd, 
"  Ye-o-eo-o-leo-leo-leo-ye-ho-le-o,"  echoing  and  winding  among 
the  mountains,  clear  and  bell-like,  as  it  floated  away. 

The  yodlyn !  and  this  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard 
it  in  Switzerland. 

But  listen ! 

Above  where  I  stand  comes  a  reply,  clear  and  musical, 
mellowed  by  distance,  the  curious  falsetto,  the  "  yo-e-ho-o-leo," 
is  returned,  and  scarcely  ceases  ere  taken  up,  away  across  the 
valley,  by  an  answering  voice,  so  faint  in  the  distance  that  it 
quavers. like  a  flute  on  the  ear.  And  so  the  herdsmen  in 
these  solitudes  call  and  answer  one  another  during  their 
journeyings,  or  then-  lonely  hours  in  the  mountains. 

Now  we  wind  down,  through  trees,  herbage,  and  wild 
flowers.  Here  is  an  ocean  of  white  and  buff  garden  helio- 
tropes, monkshood,  handsome  lilac  candytuft,  and  a  flower 
in  abundance  which  very  much  resembles  the  Mexican  age- 
ratum.  Now  we  come  to  a  broad  sort  of  open  field,  and  a 
chalet,  where  we  halted,  and  rested  upon  rustic  seats  at  the 


LUCERNE.  380 

door,  while  the  horses  were  baited.  While  we  sat  here,  the 
officious  host  hi anded  our  Alpine  stocks  with  the  names  of 
Goldau  and  Righi,  showing  that  we  had  passed  those  points. 
At  this  place,  the  open  field  was  rich  in  sweet  red-clover, 
and  pretty  little  flowers,  like  dwarfed  sweet-peas.  As  we 
rode  on,  the  air  was  melodious  with  the  tinkling  of  the  bells 
of  the  mountain  herds,  and  the  woods  and  fields  rich  in  wild 
white  roses  and  numerous  other  flowers. 

At  length  we  reached  Kusnacht,  on  Lake  Lucerne ;  and,  em- 
barking on  a  little  steamboat,  we  glided  along  past  the  beauti- 
ful slopes  of  the  Righi  range,  having  a  fine  view  of  the 
frowning  peak  of  Pilatus,  and  some  towering  snow-clads  in 
the  distance.  Finally  we  rounded  a  point,  and  there  lay 
Lucerne,  in  a  sort  of  natural  amphitheatre,  fronting  on  the, 
blue  lake,  and  between  the  Righi  and  Pilatus  on  either 
side.  Upon  the  whole  length  of  the  long  quay  is  a  broad 
avenue  of  shady  chestnut  trees ;  then,  strung  all  along  be- 
hind it,  arc  the  great  hotels  ;  and  in  the  background,  running 
over  on  the  heights  above  the  town,  are  the  walls  and  watch- 
towers,  the  whole  forming  a  most  charming  and  picturesque 
scene. 

The  steamer  glides  up  to  the  stone  pier  almost  opposite  to 
the  great  hotel,  where  our  rooms  had  been  engaged  and  lug- 
gage forwarded,  and  in  a  few  minutes  more  the  officious  por- 
ters have  us  domiciled  in  fine  apartments  in  the  "  Schweizer- 
hoff,"  where  we  proceed  to  remove  the  stains  of  travel  and 
mountain  climbing,  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a  good  bath,  and  in 
other  ways  prepare  for  the  table  cVhote. 

The  Schweizerhoff  is  a  splendid  hotel,  and,  with  its  depen- 
dencies, accommodates  some  three  hundred  or  more  guests. 
It  is  admirably  kept,  the  rooms  clean,  well  furnished,  and 
airy,  and  the  front  commanding  a  superb  view  of  the  lake, 
Mount  Pilatus,  Righi,  and  a  whole  range  of  Alps,  green  hill- 
sides, rocky  crags,  or  great  snow-clads,  running  up  five,  six, 
seven,  and  eight  thousand  feet  high.  A  picture  it  seemed 
we  could  never  tire  gazing  at,  as  we  sat  at  our  windows  look- 
ing at  them,  and  the  blue  lake,  with  its  steamboats  coming 
25 


386  CURIOUS    OLD   BEIDGES. 

and  going,  row-boats  and  pleasure  sail-boats  gliding  hither 
and  thither.  In  this  house  is  a  reading-room  for  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  with  English,  French,  German,  and  Italian  news- 
papers, books  and  magazines,  a  billiard-room,  pretty  garden, 
and  great  dining-room,  with  conservatory  at  one  end  of  it, 
filled  with  plants  and  birds.  A  fountain  in  the  room  spouts 
and  flashes  merrily  during  the  dinner  hour,  and  a  band  of 
music  plays.  There  are  waiters  and  porters  who  speak 
French,  German,  Italian,  and  English,  and  hearing  the  latter 
spoken  on  every  side  so  frequently,  seeing  so  many  Ameri- 
cans, and  the  ladies  going  through  with  the  usual  display  of 
dress  and  flirtations  as  at  home,  it  was  difficult  to  imagine 
that  we  were  not  at  some  Saratoga,  or  Newport,  and  that 
a  few  hours  by  rail  would  not  bear  us  to  Boston  or  New 
York. 

The  sights  in  Lucerne  are  few  and  easily  seen,  the  princi- 
pal attraction  being  the  loveliness  of  the  situation.  The 
River  Reuss  emerges  from  the  lake  at  this  point,  and  rushes 
off  at  a  tremendous  rate,  and  two  of  the  curious  old  wooden 
bridges  that  span  it  are  features  of  the  place ;  they  are  roofed 
over  and  partially  enclosed.  In  the  inner  triangular  com- 
partments of  the  roof  of  the  longest  are  a  series  of  over  a 
hundred  pictures,  illustrating  scenes  in  the  lives  of  saints  and 
in  the  history  of  Switzerland ;  in  the  other  the  Dance  of  Death 
is  quaintly  and  rudely  depicted;  picturesque  old  places  these 
bridges,  cool  and  shady  for  a  summer  afternoon's  stroll. 

The  great  attraction  in  the  old  cathedral  in  Lucerne  is  the 
fine  organ,  which  all  visitors  go  to  hear  played;  and  we  strolled 
in  on  a  quiet  summer's  evening,  after  dinner,  to  listen  to  it. 
The  slanting  beams  of  the  sun  gleamed  through  the  stained- 
glass  windows,  and  lighted  up  some  of  the  old  carved  wood 
reliefs  of  the  stalls  in  the  church,  as  we  took  our  seats,  with 
some  fifty  or  sixty  other  tourists,  here  and  there  in  the  body 
•of  the  house ;  and  soon  the  music  began.  First  there  were 
two  or  three  hymns,  whose  pure,  simple  melody  was  given 
with  a  grace  and  delicacy  that  seemed  to  carry  their  sacred 
sentiment  to  the  very  heart;  from  these  the  performer  burst 


MAKVELLOUS    MUSIC.  387 

into  one  of  the  grandest  performances  of  Mendelssohn's  Wed- 
ding March  I  ever  listened  to.  There  was  the  full  band, 
with  hautboy,  flute,  clarinet,  and  trumpet  accompaniment,  in- 
troducing perfect  solo  obligatos,  and  closing  with  the  full, 
grand  sweep  of  melody,  in  which,  amid  the  blending  of  all  in 
one  grand  harmonious  whole,  the  strains  of  each  were  dis- 
tinguishable, perfect,  pure,  and  faultless.  The  liquid  ripple  of 
the  flute,  the  blare  of  the  trumpet,  and  the  mellow  murmur 
of  the  clarinet,  till  the  march  arose  in  one  grand  volume 
of  harmony  that  made  the  vaulted  arches  of  the  old  cathedral 
ring  again,  and  it  seemed  as  if  every  nook  and  corner  was 
filled  with  exultant  melody.  It  was  a  glorious  performance, 
and  I  felt  like  leaping  to  my  feet,  swinging  my  hat,  and  shout- 
ing, Bravo !  when  it  was  finished. 

But,  if  this  was  glorious,  the  last  piece,  which  represented 
a  thunder  storm  amid  the  Alps,  was  little  short  of  marvel- 
lous, and  may  be  regarded  as  a  masterpiece  of  organ-playing. 
It  commenced  with  a  beautiful  pastoral  introduction  ;  this 
was  succeeded  by  the  muttering  of  distant  thunder,  the  fitful 
gusts  of  a  gradually  rising  tempest,  the  sharp  shirlr  of  the 
wind,  and  the  very  rattling  and  trickling  of  the  rain  drops ; 
mountain  streams  could  be  heard,  rushing,  swollen  into  tor- 
rents ;  the  mutter  of  the  tempest  increased  to  a  gradual  and 
rising  roar  of  wind ;  a  resistless  rush  of  rain  was  heard,  that 
made  the  spectator  look  anxiously  towards  church  windows, 
and  feel  nervous  that  he  had  no  umbrella.  Finally  the  tre- 
mendous tempest  of  the  Alps  seemed  to  shake  the  great 
cathedral,  the  winds  howled  and  shrieked,  the  lain  beat, 
rushed,  and  came  down  in  torrents ;  the  roar  of  the  swollen 
mountain  streams  was  heard  between  the  terrific  peals  of 
thunder  that  reverberated  among  the  mountains,  awaking  a 
hundred  echoes,  and  one  of  those  sharp,  terrible  rattles,  that 
betokens  the  falling  bolt,  made  more  than  one  lady  sit  closer 
to  her  protector,  with  an  involuntary  shudder. 

But  anon  the  thunder  peals  grew  less  and  less  frequent, 
and  rolled  slowly  and  grandly  oh°  among  the  mountains,  with 
heavy  reverberations,  between  which  the  rush  of  the  nioun- 


388  WONDERFUL    ORGAN    PLAYING. 

tain  streams  and  the  rattle  of  the  brooks  were  heard,  till  final- 
ly the  peals  of  heaven's  artillery  died  away  entirely,  the 
streams  rushed  less  fiercely,  and  the  brooks  purled  over  the 
pebbles.  Then,  amid  the  subsiding  of  the  tempest,  the  notes 
of  a  little  organ,  which  had  been  heard  only  at  intervals  dur- 
ing the  war  of  elements,  became  more  clear  and  distinct : 
now,  as  the  thunder  ceased  and  the  rush  of  rain  was  over, 
you  heard  it  as  in  some  distant  convent  or  chapel  among  the 
mountains,  and  there  arose  a  chant  so  sweet,  so  clear,  so 
heavenly  as  to  seem  hardly  of  this  earth  —  a  chant  of  nuns 
before  their  altar;  anon  it  increased  in  volume  as  tenor,  alto, 
and  even  the  full  bass  of  monkish  chant  joined,  and  the  whole 
choir  burst  into  a  glorious  hymn  of  praise. 

The  audience  were  breathless  as  they  listened  to  the  chant 
of  this  invisible  choir,  whose  voices  they  could  distinguish  in 
sweet  accord  as  they  arose  and  blended  into  a  great  anthem, 
and  then  gradually  faded  in  the  distance,  as  though  the  meek 
sisterhood  were  gliding  away  amid  their  cloisters,  and  the 
voices  of  the  procession  of  hooded  monks  ceased  one  after 
the  other,  as  they  sought  the  quiet  of  their  cells.  The  chant 
dropped  away,  voice  by  voice,  into  silence ;  all  ceased  but  the 
little  chapel  organ  accompaniment,  which  lingered  and  qua- 
vered, till,  like  a  last  trembling  seraph  breath,  it  faded  away 
in  the  still  twilight,  and  —  the  performance  was  over. 

There  was  full  a  moment's  spell-bound  hush  among  the 
listeners  after  its  conclusion,  and  then  followed  one  universal 
burst  of  admiration  and  applause  in  half  a  dozen  different 
languages.  Some  of  the  ladies  of  our  party,  not  dreaming  of 
the  Menders  of  the'  vox  humana  stop,  desired  to  see  the  choir 
that  sang  so  sweetly ;  and  to  gratify  them  we  ascended  to 
the  organ  gallery,  where,  to  their  surprise,  we  met  the  sole 
performer  on  the  wonderful  instrument  to  which  they  had 
listened,  in  the  person  of  an  old  German,  with  scattered  gray 
hairs  peeping  out  beneath  his  velvet  skull-cap,  wearing  black 
knee-breeches  and  silk  stockings,  and  shoes  with  broad  buckles 
—  a  perfect  old  virtuoso  in  appearance,  and  a  genuine  musical 
enthusiast,  trembling  with  pleasure  at  our  praise,  and  his  eyes 
glistening  with  tears  at  our  admiration  of  Ms  marvellous  skill. 


A    SAIL     ON   LAKE   LUCERNE.  389 

The  lion  of  Lucerne  is,  in  fact,  literally  the  lion ;  that  is, 
the  celebrated  lion  sculptured  out  of  the  natural  rock  by  the 
celebrated  Danish  sculptor  Thorwaldsen,  in  memory  of  the 
Swiss  guard  that  were  massacred  in  defence  of  the  Tuileries 
in  1792.  The  figure  is  in  a  beautiful  grotto,  a  sheet  of  water, 
which  is  fed  by  springs  that  trickle  out  from  the  stone  that 
it  is  carved  from,  separating  it  from  the  spectator. 

The  reclining  figure  of  this  dying  lion,  so  familiar  to  all 
from  pictorial  representations,  is  twenty-eight  feet  in  length, 
and,  as  it  lies  transfixed  with  the  broken  lance,  and  in  the 
agonies  of  death,  sheltering  the  French  shield  and  fleur  cle  lis 
with  its  great  paws,  forms  a  most  appropriate  monument,  and 
one  not  easily  forgotten. 

Lake  Lucerne,  the  Lake  of  the  Four  Cantons,  is  the  most 
beautiful  in  Switzerland,  and  the  grandeur  and  beauty  of  the 
scenery  on  every  side  are  heightened  by  the  historical  associa- 
tions connected  Avith  the  country  bordering  on  its  waters ; 
for  these  cantons  are  the  birthplace  of  Switzerland's  freedom, 
and  the  scenes  of  the  struggles  of  William  Tell  and  his  brave 
associates.  It  was  a  beautiful  summer's  morning  when  we 
embarked  on  board  one  of  the  little  steamers  that  leave 
Lucerne  four  or  five  times  a  day,  and  steamed  out  from  the 
pier,  leaving  the  long  string  of  hotels,  the  range  of  hills  above 
them,  with  the  curious  walls  and  watch-towers,  behind  us, 
and  grim  old  Mount  Pilatus  with  his  necklace  of  clouds  stand- 
ing guard  over  the  whole. 

We  again  pass  the  green  slopes  of  the  Righi,  and  in  the 
distance  the  great  Alpine  peaks  begin  to  appear,  printed 
against  the  sky.  Soon  we  come  to  Burgenstock,  a  great 
forest-clad  hill  that  rises  abruptly  from  the  very  lake  to  the 
height  of  over  three  thousand  four  hundred  feet;  we  pass 
beautiful  slopes  rimmed  with  a  background  of  lofty  mountain 
peaks  ;  here  is  the  picturesque  little  village  of  Waggis,  from 
which  many  make  the  ascent  of  the  Righi ;  next  Ave  pass  a 
beautiful  little  crescent-shaped  village,  and  then  come  in  sight 
tAVO  great  barren,  rocky-looking  peaks  named  Mythen,  nearly 
six  thousand  feet  high ;  and  the  boat  rounds  up  to  the  pier  of 


390  SCHILLEB   AND    TELL. 

Brm men,  a  lovely  situation,  where  many  tourists  disembark 
and  others  come  on  board.  Shortly  after  leaving  here,  we 
pass  a  perpendicular  rock,  nearly  a  hundred  feet  high,  on 
which  is  inscribed,  in  huge  gilt  letters,  an  inscription  signify- 
ing it  is  to  "  Frederick  Schiller,  the  Bard  of  Tell."  Just  be- 
yond this  a  passenger  directs  our  view  to  a  green  field,  and  a 
few  scattered  chalets.  That  is  Ruth,  what  little  we  can  see 
of  it,  and  where  the  founders  of  Swiss  liberty  met,  and  bound 
themselves  by  oath  to  free  the  land  from  the  invader. 

The  steamer  glides  close  to  the  shore,  and  gives  us  an  op- 
portunity of  seeing  Teh's  Chapel,  situated  upon  a  rock  on  the 
shore,  and  marking  the  place  where  Tell  sprang  out  of  Gess- 
ler's  boat,  as  is  told  in  the  stories  of  the  Swiss  hero.  Leav- 
ing this  behind,  we  soon  come  in  sight  of  Fluelen,  our  point 
of  destination,  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  surrounding  of  grand 
Alpine  scenery.  Between  two  great  peaks,  in  full  view,  we 
can  see  a  glacier,  with  its  white  snow  and  blue  ice,  and  a  great 
peak,  with  castle-shaped  summit,  looms  up  seventy-five  hun- 
dred feet,  while  behind  Fluelen  rise  two  other  peaks  nearly 
ten  thousand  feet.  We  are  circled  by  great  Alps,  with  their 
snowy  crowns  and  glaciers  gleaming  in  the  sunlight. 

Landing  at  Fluelen,  we  engaged  for  our  party  of  five  a  pri- 
vate open  carriage,  for  the  journey  through  St.  Gothard  Pass, 
instead  of  taking  the  great  cumbrous  ark  of  a  diligence  that 
was  in  waiting.  By  this  means  we  secured  a  vehicle  very 
much  like  an  open  barouche,  roomy,  comfortable,  and  special- 
ly designed  for  the  journey,  with  privilege,  of  course,  of 
stopping  when  and  where  we  liked,  driving  fast  or  slow ;  in 
fact,  travelling  at  our  own  convenience.  This  is  by  far  the 
pleasantest  way  of  travelling  the  mountain  passes  accessible 
to  carriages,  and  where  a  party  can  be  made  up  of  four  or 
five,  the  expense  per  head  is  but  a  small  advance  on  that 
charged  in  the  diligence,  a  dusty,  dirty,  crowded  vehicle,  with 
but  few  positions  commanding  the  view,  which  is  what  the 
tourist  comes  to  see. 

Crack,  crack,  crack  went  the  driver's  whip,  like  a  succes- 
sion of  pistol-shots,  as  we  rattled  out  of  Fluelen,  and,  after  a 


SCENE    OF    TELL,'s    ARCHERY.  391 

pleasant  ride  of  half  an  hour,  rolled  into  the  romantic  little 
village  of  Altorf,  embosomed  in  a  lovely  valley,  with  the 
huge  mountains  rising  all  about  it. 

Altorf !     William  Tell !     "Men  of  Altorf ! " 

Yes  ;  this  was  the  place  embalmed  in  school-boy  memories 
with  all  that  was  bold,  heroic,  brave,  and  romantic.  Here 
was  where  William  Tell  defied  Gessler,  dashed  down  his  cap 
from  the  pole,  and  appealed  to  the  men  of  Altorf. 

Pleasant  little  Swiss  town.  We  ride  through  a  narrow 
street,  which  widens  out  into  a  sort  of  market-place,  at  one 
end  of  which  stands  a  huge  plaster  statue  of  the  Swiss  libera- 
tor, which  is  said  to  occupy  the  very  spot  that  he  stood  upon 
when  he  performed  his  wondrous  feat  of  archery,  and  one 
hundred  and  fifty  paces  distant  a  fountain  marks  the  spot 
where  his  son  Albert  stood  awaiting  the  arrow  from  his  fa- 
ther's bow,  though  some  of  the  Swiss  insist  that  Albert's 
position  was  thirty  paces  farther,  where  a  tower  now  stands, 
upon  which  some  half-obliterated  frescoes,  representing  scenes 
in  Toll's  life,  are  painted. 

We  descended  from  our  carriage,  walked  over  the  space  of 
the  arrow  flight,  and  called  to  each  other  from  the  opposite 
points ;  pictured  to  ourselves  the  crowd  of  villagers,  the  fierce 
soldiery  that  pressed  them  back,  the  anxiety  of  the  father,  the 
twang  of  the  bow,  distinctly  heard  in  the  aAve-  struck  hush  of 
the  assemblage  as  the  arrow  sped  on  its  flight,  and  then  the 
shout  that  went  up  as  the  apple  was  cleft,  and  the  boy,  un- 
hurt, ran  to  his  father's  arms. 

Away  we  sped  from  the  town  of  Altorf,  passed  a  little 
castle  on  a  height,  said  to  be  that  of  Gessler,  and  soon 
emerged  on  the  broad,  hard,  floor-like  road  of  the  St.  Gothard 
Pass ;  and  what  pen  can  describe  the  grandeur  and  beauty  of 
this  most  magnificent  of  all  Alpine  passes!  One  may  read 
descriptions,  see  engravings,  paintings,  photographs,  or  pano- 
ramas, and  yet  get  no  idea  of  the  grandeur  of  the  spectacle. 

There  were  huge  walls  of  splintered  crags,  so  high  that 
they  seemed  to  be  rocky  curtains  hung  down  out  of  the  blue 
heavens.     These  were  mountains,  such  as  I  imagined  moun- 


392  "above  me  are  the  alps." 

tains  were  when  a  child.  We  had  to  look  straight  up  into 
the  sky  to  see  them.  Great  rocky  walls  rose  almost  from  the 
road-side  sheer  up  thousands  and  thousands  of  feet.  A  whole 
range  of  peaks  is  printed  against  the  sky  directly  before  us, 
half  of  them  o-littcrino;  with  snow  and  ice.  On  we  rolled 
over  the  smooth  road,  and  emerged  into  a  vast  oval  amphi- 
theatre, as  it  were,  the  road  passing  through  the  centre,  the 
green  slopes  the  sides,  and  the  huge  peaks  surrounding  the 
outer  barriers  that  enclosed  it.  We  all  stood  up  in  our  car- 
riage, with  exclamations  of  admiration  at  the  magnificent 
scene  that  suddenly  burst  upon  us. 

Just  below  the  broad  road  we  were  upon  rushed  the  River 
Reuss,  a  foaming  torrent.  Beyond  it,  on"  the  opposite  side, 
all  the  rest  of  the  distance,  the  whole  beautiful  valley,  and 
along  the  green  slope  of  the  opposite  mountain,  for  three  or 
four  miles,  were  Swiss  chalets,  flocks  feeding,  men  and  women 
at  work,  streams  turning  water-wheels,  romantic  waterfalls 
spattering  down  in  large  and  small  ravines.  We  could  see 
them  starting  from  their  source  miles  away  up  among  the  blue 
glaciers,  where,  beneath  the  sun's  beams,  they  fluttered  like 
little  threads  of  silver,  and  farther  down  came  into  view  in 
great  brooks  of  feathery  foam,  till  they  rushed  into  the  river 
that  owed  its  life  to  their  contributions. 

The  distance  is  so  enormous,  the  scenery  so  grand,  that  it 
is  beyond  description.  I  was  like  Gulliver  among  the  Brob- 
dingnagians,  and  feared  I  never  should  get  my  head  down  to  a 
level  with  ordinary  mortals  again.  I  discovered,  too,  how  de- 
ceptive the  distance  was  among  these  huge  peaks.  In  at- 
tempting to  toss  a  pebble  into  the  stream  that  flowed  appar- 
ently thirty  or  forty  feet  below  the  road,  and,  as  I  thought, 
about  twenty  feet  from  it,  it  fell  far  short.  Another  and  an- 
other effort  failed  to  reach  it ;  for  it  rolled  over  three  hundred 
feet  below,  and  more  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  from  us. 

Every  variety  of  mountain  peak  rose  before  us  against  the 
dark-blue  afternoon  sky.  There  were  peaks  that  ran  away  up 
into  heaven,  glittering  with  snow ;  old  gray  crags,  splintered, 
as  it  were,  with  thunder-bolts  ;  huge  square,  tfc  r>n?  like  walls. 


THE    ST.   GOTHARD    PASS.  893 

the  very  throne  of  Jupiter ;  mountains  that  "were  like  great 
brown  castles  ;  and  peaks  that  the  blue  atmosphere  of  dis- 
tance painted  with  a  hundred  softened  and  varied  hues. 

The  reader  may  fancy  himself  viewing  this  scene,  if  possible, 
which  we  saw  as  we  rode  over  this  smooth,  well-kept  road  — 
at  our  right  a  ridge  of  mountain  wall,  at  our  left  the  great 
ravine,  with  the  white-foamed  torrent  rushing  over  its  rocky 
bed,  every  mile  or  so  spanned  by  arched  stone  bridges.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  stream  were  the  pretty  rural  picture  of 
farms,  chalets,  gardens,  herds,  and  flocks.  Every  inch  of 
ground  that  was  available  was  cultivated,  and  the  cultivation 
runs  up  the  mountain  side  as  fir  as  vegetation  can  exist.  All 
around  the  air  was  filled  with  the  rattle  of  running  water. 
Rushing  torrents  leaped  from  great  ravines,  little  ribbons 
tumbled  down  in  silver  sheets,  brooks  clattered  and  flashed 
as  they  wound  in  and  out  of  view  on  their  way  to  the  valley, 
cascades  vaulted  over  sharp  crags,  and  the  sides  of  this  vast 
amphitheatre  were  glistening  with  silvery  veins.  I  counted 
over  twenty  waterfalls  within  one  sweep  of  the  eye. 

We  were  surprised  into  admiration  at  the  state  of  the  road. 
It  is  a  magnificent  specimen  of  engineering,  and,  although  it 
is  a  steady  ascent,  it  is  rendered  easy  and  comparatively  im- 
perceptible by  numerous  curves.  There  are  forty-six  great 
curves,  or  zigzags,  in  the  ascent.  The  road  itself  is  nearly 
twenty  feet  wide,  kept  in  admirable  order,  free  as  a  floor  from 
the  least  obstruction,  and  protected  on  the  side  towards  the 
precipice  by  strong  stone  posts  planted  at  regular  intervals. 
There  are  many  streets  in  Boston  more  difficult  of  ascent  and 
more  dansrerous  of  descent  than  the  road  of  the  St.  Gothard 
Pass. 

The  magnificent  roads  in  the  mountain  passes,  the  fine 
hotels,  the  regulations  respecting  guides,  and  the  care  and  at- 
tention bestowed  upon  travellers  in  Switzerland,  are  all  for  a 
purpose ;  for  the  Swiss,  as  I  have  remarked,  live  on  the  travel 
of  foreigners,  and  are  wise  enough  to  know  that  the  more  easy 
and  pleasant  they  make  travelling  to  tourists,  the  more  of 
them  will  come,  and  the  more  money  will  be  spent.     The 


394  AN   AWFUL   PASS. 

roads  are  alii  lost  as  great  a  wonder  as  the  scenery.  Some- 
times, when  a  spur  of  the  mountain  juts  out,  a  tunnel,  or  gal- 
lery, is  cut  right  through  it ;  and  really  there  is  comparatively 
but  very  little  danger  in  traversing  the  Swiss  passes,  except  to 
those  venturesome  spirits  who  persist  in  attempting  to  scale 
almost  inaccessible  peaks,  or  ascending  Mont  Blanc,  Mont 
Rosa,  or  the  dangerous  Matterhorn. 

As  we  rode  on  and  on,  and  up  and  up,  we  came  to  a  wild 
scene  that  seemed  a  very  chaos  —  the  commencement  of  crea- 
tion. "We  found  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  great  black  and 
iron-rust  colored  crags,  five  or  six  thousand  feet  high,  jagged, 
splintered,  and  shattered  into  every  variety  of  shape.  The 
torrent  fairly  roared  hundreds  of  feet  below.  I  had  left  the 
carriage,  and  was  walking  some  hundreds  of  yards  in  advance 
alone  as  I  entered  this  tremendous  pass.  The  road  hugged 
the  great  black  rocky  wall  of  the  mountain  that  rose  so  high 
as  almost  to  shut  out  the  light.  On  the  opposite  side  were 
mountains  of  solid  black  rock,  not  a  spear  of  grass,  not  a 
speck  of  verdure,  from  base  to  summit.  The  great  rushing 
mountain  torrent  tore,  rushed,  and  leaped  madly  over  the  huge 
boulders  that  had  rolled  into  its  jagged  bed,  and  its  fall  was 
all  that  broke  the  awful  stillness  and  the  gloomy  grandeur  of 
the  place ;  for  the  whole  scene,  which  the  eye  took  in  for 
miles,  was  lofty  masses  of  everlasting  granite,  hurled  together 
and  cleft  asunder  as  by  supernatural  means.  I  could  think 
of  nothing  like  it  but  Gustavo  Dore's  pictures  in  Dante's  In- 
ferno ;  and  this  terrific  pass  was  a  good  representation  of  the 
approach  to  hell  itself.  It  is  astonishing  to  notice  how  the 
scene  hushes  the  visitor  into  an  awe-struck  silence ;  for  it 
seems  as  if  in  these  wild  and  awful  heights,  as  on  mid-ocean, 
man  stands  more  immediately  in  the  presence  of  the  Al- 
mighty. 

The  seen?  culminates  at  the  bridge  itself,  —  appropriately 
named  the  Devil's  Bridge,  —  where  is  a  tremendously  rapid 
waterfall  pouring  down,  and  where  the  eye  takes  in  the  whole 
of  the  black  ravine,  with  the  road  like  a  white  snake  clinging 
to  the  precipitous  mountain  wall.     Thirty  or  forty  feet  below, 


THE 


devil's  deidge.  395 


also  spanning  the  torrent,  are  the  remains  of  the  old  bridge 
upon  which  the  battle  was  fought  between  the  French  and 
Austiians  —  a  terrible  place,  indeed,  for  a  death  struggle. 
The  new  bridge,  over  which  we  crossed,  is  a  splendid  struc- 
ture of  granite,  and  has  a  single  arch  of  twenty-five  feet. 
Through  the  mighty  ravines  we  wound  upward  and  onward, 
on  through  a  great  tunnel,  fifteen  feet  high  and  sixteen  feet 
wide,  cut  through  the  solid  rock  a  distance  of  over  two  hun- 
dred  feet,  soon  after  emerging  from  which  we  came  to  a  ver- 
dant, broad,  level  pasture,  here  up  among  the  mountains,  a 
valley  surrounded  by  lofty  snow-clads.  This  is  the  valley  of 
Uri,  and  its  pleasant  verdure,  watered  by  the  river  which 
flows  through  it,  is  an  agreeable  contrast  to  the  savage  and 
gloomy  grandeur  of  the  scenery  we  had  left  behind  us. 
There  are  only  about  four  months  of  summer  here,  and  the 
inhabitants  subsist  by  their  herds,  and  by  conveying  trav- 
ellers' bago-acre  and  merchandise  over  to  St.  Gothard  Pass. 

We  next  came  to  the  little  village  of  Andermatt,  and  just 
beyond  it,  at  nightfall,  reached  Hospenthal,  fatigued  and 
glad  to  reach  the  Meyerhof  Hotel,  just  outside  the  village. 
The  house,  which  had  accommodations  for  seventy  or  eighty 
guests,  was  crowded  with  tourists,  among  whom  was  a  lib- 
eral representation  of  Americans  and  Englishmen.  In  the 
morning,  after  discussing  a  hearty  breakfast,  we  started  on 
our  return,  having  a  fine  view  of  the  glacier  of  St.  Anna, 
rising  high  above  the  mountain  ridges,  and  glittering  in  the 
morning  sunshine.  We  drove  back  through  the  same  pass, 
and  halted  on  the  Devil's  Bridge  to  watch  the  waterfall  of 
the  Reuss,  that  leaps  and  foams  down  its  descent  here  of  a 
hundred  feet,  as  it  passes  beneath  the  bridge,  and,  looking 
up,  saw  the  spray  of  the  descending  torrent  made  into  beauti- 
ful rainbows  by  the  morning  sunbeams.  There  were  the 
terrible  masses  of  rock,  the  huge,  splintered  peaks,  and  tre- 
mendous ravines ;  but  the  grand  effect  of  ascending  in  the 
twilight  of  afternoon,  which  is  the  time  chosen,  if  possible, 
by  tourists,  is  lost,  to  a  great  extent,  in  the  early  part  of 
the  day. 


396  THE    BEUNIG   PASS. 

Once  more,  adieu  to  Lucerne;  and  this  time  we  start 
from  the  door  of  the  Schweizerhoff  in  private  conveyance  for 
Interlaken,  via  the  Brunig  Pass.  We  rode  along  for  miles 
over  a  smooth,  level  road,  on  the  very  banks  of  the  Lake  of 
the  Four  Cantons,  the  scenery  being  a  succession  of  charm- 
ing pictures  of  lake  and  mountain.  Our  road  led  us  through 
several  Swiss  villages,  generally  closely  built,  with  narrow 
and  irregular  streets,  and  very  dirty.  The  Swiss  peasants 
that  Ave  meet  are  browned  and  bent  with  hard  toil.  Men 
and  women  toil  alike,  in  the  fields  and  by  the  roadside.  All 
are  trained  to  burden-bearing,  which  is  by  means  of  a  long 
basket  made  to  fit  the  back  and  shoulders,  the  top  higher 
than  the  head.  The  women  over  thirty  years  of  age  are 
coarse  and  masculine,  their  faces  and  hands  browned,  seamed, 
and  wrinkled  with  toil.  They  clamber  about  in  the  mountain 
passes,  and  gather  grass  for  their  herds,  carrying  the  burdens 
in  their  baskets,  or  the  manure  which  may  be  found  on  the 
road  during  the  travelling  season,  or  break  stones  for  mend- 
ing the  roads. 

The  Brums;  road  was  another  one  of  those  wonderful 
specimens  of  engineering,  with  not  a  loose  pebble  upon  its 
floor-like  surface,  the  scenery  romantic  and  beautiful,  but  not 
of  so  grand  a  description  as  the  St.  Gothard.  We  wind 
through  the  woods,  have  occasional  glimpses  of  the  valley 
below,  until  finally,  at  the  summit  of  the  pass,  the  magnifi- 
cent scenery  of  the  Meiringen  valley  bursts  upon  the  view. 
This  is,  as  it  were,  a  level,  beautiful  country,  deep  between 
two  great  ranges  of  mountains,  and  you  stand  upon  one  and 
look  down  upon  it,  and  across  to  the  other. 

This  smiling  valley  was  like  a  framed  picture  in  the  sun- 
shine ;  the  silver  River  Aare  wound  through  it,  white  villages 
were  nestled  here  and  there,  orchards  bloomed,  and  -fields 
were  verdant,  sheltered  by  the  high  crags  from  the  north 
wind,  and  brown  roads  wound  in  and  out  among  finely  culti- 
vated farms.  Directly  opposite  us,  away  over  the  other  side 
of  the  valley,  rose  up  the  sheer,  rocky  sides  of  the  mountain 
wall,  out   of  which  waterfalls   were   spirting   and   cascades 


A   VALLEY    OF   BEAUTY.  397 

dashing  in  every  direction,  to  feed  the  stream  below. 
There  were  the  beautiful  falls  of  the  Reich enbach,  rushing 
over  the  cliff,  and  dropping  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  feet 
down  to  the  valley.  The  different  waterfalls  that  we  could 
see  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley  seemed  like  white,  wav- 
ing wreaths  hung  upon  the  mountain-sides.  To  the  rear  of 
these,  overtopping  all  at  intervals,  lofty  snow-clads  lifted 
their  white  crowns  into  the  sunshine.  The  view  of  this 
lovely  valley,  with  its  green  pastures,  meandering  rivers,  and 
picturesque  waterfalls;  its  verdant  carpet,  dotted  with  vil- 
lages, and  the  whole  fringed  witli  a  belt  of  firs  and  dark 
green  foliage,  as  Ave  looked  down  into  it  from  our  lefty  nlat- 
forrn,  reminded  me  of  the  story  of  the  genius  who  stamped 
his  foot  on  the  mountain,  which  was  cleft  open,  and  showed 
in  its  depths  to  an  astonished  peasant  the  lovely  country  of 
the  elves  and  fairies,  in  contrast  with  the  desolation  of  the 
rocky  crags  and  mountains  that  rose  about  him. 

Down  we  ride,  amid  beautiful  mountain  scenery  on  every 
side,  and  finally  through  the  town  of  Brienz,  where  the 
beautiful  wood  carving  is  wrought.  We  have  a  good  view 
of  the  Faulhorn  in  the  distance,  pass  through  two  or  three 
little  Swiss  villages,  and  finally  drive  into  a  beautiful  green 
valley,  with  quite  a  New  England  appearance  to  the  pensions, 
or  boarding-houses,  which  passed,  we  come  to  a  string  of 
splendid  hotels  upon  one  side  of  the  broad  road,  the  other 
side  being  open,  and  affording  an  unobstructed  view  of  the 
Jungfrau  and  its  snowy  crown.  Fatigued  with  a  ten-hours' 
ride,  and  sight-seeing,  we  drive  up  to  the  door  of  the  mag- 
nificent Hotel  Victoria.  Price  of  the  carriage  hire,  extra 
horses,  driver's  fee,  horse  baiting,  and  all,  for  the  whole  day's 
journey,  fifty  francs,  —  ten  dollars,  or  two  dollars  apiece, — 
and  a  very  reasonable  price  it  was  considered  for  private 
conveyance,  premiere  classe,  at  the  height  of  the  travelling 
season. 

The  hotels  at  Interlaken  are  fine  establishments,  and  well 
kept.  The  Victoria,  where  we  were  domiciled,  has  fine 
grounds  in  front,  and  commands  a  view  of  the  Jungfrau  gla- 


398  INTEELAKEN. 

cier.  It  contains  two  hundred  and  forty  rooms,  and  has 
reading-rooms,  parlors,  and  music-rooms  equal  to  the  hotels 
at  our  fashionable  watering-places.  Prices  high  —  about  two 
dollars  per  day,  each  person.  There  are  numerous  other 
smaller  hotels,  where  the  living  is  equally  good,  and  the 
prices  are  less ;  and  still  others,  known  as  pensions,  where 
visitors  stay  for  a  few  weeks  or  the  season,  which  are  very 
comfortable,  and  at  which  prices  are  half  the  rate  above 
mentioned. 

Interlaken  is  beautifully  and  romantically  situated,  and  is 
a  popular  resort  for  tourists  in  Switzerland,  as  a  place  from 
which  many  interesting  excursions  may  be  made.  We  chose 
ours  to  be  up  over  the  "Wengernalp  to  Grindenwald,  sending 
our  carriage  around  from  Lauterbrunnen  to  Grindenwald,  to 
meet  us  as  we  came  down  by  the  bridle-path  to  that  place. 
The  ride  to  Lauterbrunnen  was  the  same  succession  of 
beautiful  Alpine  scenery  that  I  have  so  often  described  — 
lofty  mountains,  cascades,  waterfalls,  green  slopes,  distant 
snow-clads,  dark  pines,  blue  distance,  Swiss  chalets,  and  pic- 
turesque landscape. 

Beggars  now  begin  to  be  a  serious  nuisance,  especially 
when  your  carriage  stops  at  different  points  for  you  to  enjoy 
the  view.  Then  boys  and  girls  come  with  milk,  plums,  apri- 
cots, cheap  wood  carvings,  and  curious  pebbles,  to  sell,  till  one 
gets  perfectly  nervous  at  their  approach,  especially  after  the 
halt,  the  lame,  and  the  blind  have  besought  you ;  and  one 
fellow  capped  the  climax,  as  we  were  enjoying  a  beautiful 
view,  by  gracefully  swaying  a  toy  flexible  snake  into  our  car- 
riage, to  our  most  intense  disgust  and  indignation.  As  you 
progress,  women  waylay  the  carriage  at  the  top  of  a  small 
ascent,  which  it  must  approach  slowly,  and  bawl  Swiss  songs, 
ending  with  an  outstretched  palm,  as  you  reach  them.  Boys 
and  men,  at  certain  points  in  the  passes,  sound  Alpine  horns, 
—  a  wide-mouthed  instrument  of  wood,  six  feet  in  length, — 
which  gives  out  a  sonorous  but  mellow  sound,  peculiarly 
musical  in  the  Alpine  echoes.  The  blowers  expect  that  a 
few  sous  will  be  tossed  to  them,  and  children  chase  you  with 
bunches  of  mountain  flowers  to  sell. 


TIIE    STAUBBACH    WATERFALL.  399 

How  people  manage  to  exist  far  up  in  some  of  these  wild 
mountain  defiles  is  a  wonder ;  and  it  seems  as  though  it  must 
be  a  struggle  for  some  of  them  to  keep  soul  and  body  togeth- 
er :  they  save  every  bit  of  herbage,  scrape  up  manure  from 
the  roads,  cultivate  all  they  can  in  the  short  summers,  keep 
goats  and  cows,  and  live  on  travellers. 

The  Catholic  priests  have  penetrated  every  pass  and  defile 
in  the  country,  and  at  their  little  chapels  in  the  Alps  and  by 
the  roadsides  are  rude  and  fearfully  rough-looking  representa- 
tions of  our  Saviour  on  the  cross,  and  of  various  saints  under- 
going all  sorts  of  tortures.  Now  and  then  we  meet  a  party 
of  peasants  on  foot,  men  and  Avomen  travelling  over  the 
mountain  pass  from  one  canton  to  another,  the  leader  holding 
a  rosary,  and  all  repeating  a  prayer  together,  invoking  pro- 
tection from  dangers  on  the  road.  The  priests,  with  their 
long  black  robes  and  huge  hats,  you  meet  all  over  Europe. 
We  had  one —  a  jolly  fellow  he  was,  too — in  the  same  compart- 
ment of  a  railway  carriage  on  one  of  the  Swiss  roads,  who 
laughed,  joked,  had  a  pleasant  chat  with  the  ladies,  asking  all 
sorts  of  questions  about  America,  and  at  parting,  bade  us 
adieu  with  an  air. 

As  Ave  approached  Lauterbrunnen,  we  rode  through  the 
romantic  valley  of  the  River  Lutschine,  Avhich  rushes  and 
boils  over  the  rocks  at  such  a  rate  that  the  cloudy  glacier 
Avater  has  exactly  the  appearance  of  soap-suds.  Here,  on  this 
river's  banks,  rests  the  picturesque  little  village  of  Lauter- 
brunnen, Avhich  name,  Ave  Avere  told,  signified  springs.  The 
little  Avaterfalls  and  cascades  can  be  seen  flashing  out  in  every 
direction  from  the  lofty  mountains  that  surround  it;  but 
chief  among  them  is  the  superb  and  graceful  Staubbach,  that 
tumbles  doAvn  from  a  lofty  cliff  nine  hundred  and  twenty-five 
feet  in  height.  The  best  vieAV  of  this  beautiful  fill  is  at  a 
point  nearly  half  a  mile  distant,  as  the  water,  which  is  not  of 
great  ATolume,  becomes  comrerted  into  a  shoAver  of  mist  before 
reaching  the  ground,  after  its  lofty  leap ;  but  at  this  point, 
\AThere  Ave  had  the  best  view  of  it,  it  Avas  like  a  Avreath  of 
snoAvy  foara,  broadening  at  the  base  into  a  million  of  beauti- 


400  GEEAT    GLACIEKS. 

ful  scintillations  in  the  sunlight,  and  the  effect  of  the  wind 
was  to  sway  it  hither  and  thither  like  a  huge  strip  of  snowy 
lace  that  had  been  hung  down  over  the  green  side  of  the 
mountain. 

Now  we  take  horses,  after  leaving  the  road  that  runs 
through  Lauterbrunnen.  Every  half  hour  reveals  to  us  new 
wonders  of  Alpine  scenery  and  beauty ;  we  reach  the  little 
village  of  TVengen,  and  see  great  peaks  rising  all  around  us ; 
upward  and  onward,  and  from  our  mountain  path  we  can  look 
back  and  down  iii  the  valley  of  Lauterbrunnen,  that  Ave  have 
left  far,  for  below ;  we  see  the  Staubbach  fall  dwarfed  to  a 
little  glittering  line,  and,  above  it  its  other  waterfall,  of  several 
hundred  feet,  which  was  not  visible  from  the  valley.  But  still 
upward  and  onward  we  go,  and  now  come  to  a  long  ridge, 
upon  which  the  bridle-path  runs,  as  it  were  on  the  back-bone 
of  the  mountain.  Here  we  have  a  view  as  grand,  as  Alpine, 
as  Swiss,  as  one  has  ever  read  about  or  imagined. 

Right  across  the  ravine,  which  appeared  like  a  deep 
crevasse,  scarcely  half  a  mile  wide,  was  a  huge  blue  wall  of 
ice,  seamed  with  great  chasms,  rent  into  great  fissures,  cold, 
still,  awful,  and  terrible,  with  its  background  of  lofty  moun- 
tains covered  with  eternal  snow.  Now  we  had  a  view  of  the 
Jungfrau  in  all  its  majesty,  as  its  snow  crest  sparkled  in  the 
sunshine,  twelve  thousand  eight  hundred  and  twenty-seven 
feet  in  height.  There  were  the  Silverhorn  and  the  Schneer- 
horn,  springing  their  lofty  peaks  out  of  a  vast  expanse  of  snow 
and  ice ;  a  whole  chain  of  gigantic  cliffs,  so  lofty  in  height  that 
you  seem  to  look  up  into  the  very  heavens  at  their  peaks  of 
dazzling  whiteness  ;  the  Shreckhorn,  twelve  thousand  two 
hundred  feet  high ;  the  Black  Monk,  a  dark  mass  of  rocks, 
twelve  thousand  feet,  in  striking  contrast  with  the  snowy 
mantles  that  clothe  the  other  mountains. 

Great  glaciers,  miles  in  extent,  put  a  chill  into  the  air  that 
makes  you  shudder.  The  gap  that  I  thought  half  a  mile  wide 
is  a  space  nearly  six  times  that  distance  across ;  we  feel 
dwarfed  amid  the  immensity  and  stupendous  grandeur  of  the 
scene,  and,  as  we  unconsciously  become  silent,  are  struck  with 
the  unbroken,  awful  stillness  of  the  Alps. 


A   MOUNT  AINEEES'    FESTIVAL.  401 

We  are  above  the  murmur  of  brooks  and  the  rush  of  water- 
falls; no  bird  or  insect  chirrups  here;  there  is  not  even  a 
bush  for  the  wind  to  sigh  through.  Now  and  then  a  deep, 
sonorous  murmur,  as  of  the  sigh  of  some  laboring  gnome  in 
the  mountain,  or  the  twang  of  a  gigantic  harp-string,  breaks 
the  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  dies  away.  It  is  a  distant 
avalanche.  We  listen.  It  is  gone!  and  all  is  still,  awful, 
sublime. 

We  rode  on ;  the  view  took  in  a  whole  chain  of  lofty  moun- 
tains :  now  we  pass  great  Avails  of  crag,  three  or  four  thousand 
feet  high,  now  looked  across  the  ravine  at  the  great  glaciers, 
commencing  with  layers  of  snow  and  ice,  and  running  out 
till  they  became  a  huge  sheet  of  blue  ice,  the  color  deepening 
till  it  was  blue  as  vitriol ;  but  we  were  doomed  to  pay  one  of 
the  penalties  of  sight-seeing  in  the  Alps,  for  swiftly  came  a 
thick  cloud,  shutting  out  the  whole  view,  and  out  of  it  came 
a  heavy  shower,  drenching  all  thoroughly.  A  quarter  of  an 
hour  of  this,  and  the  cloud  had  passed  on,  and  we  had  nearly 
reached  the  little  Hotel  Bellevue,  our  jjoint  of  destination,. 
and  come  in  sight  of  a  verdant  hill-side,  a  vast  green,  sheltered 
slope,  in  striking  contrast  to  the  ice  and  snow  of  the  other 
part  of  the  pass. 

Our  guides  made  us  first  halt,  and  look  at  the  herd  of 
cattle  that  were  feeding  upon  it,  and  then  pause,  and  listen  to 
the  tinkle  of  their  bells,  —  more  than  three  hundred  in  num- 
ber, —  that  sounded  like  a  vast  music-box  in  the  Alpine  still- 
ness. Then  we  looked  away  across  the  valley,  and  saw  the 
little  village  of  Miirren,  the  highest  village  in  Switzerland, 
five  thousand  and  eighteen  feet,  en  a  mountain-side ;  and 
finally  we  reached  the  hotel  on  the  highest  point  of  the  little 
Scheideck,  six  thousand  two  hundred  and  eighty-four  feet 
(Righi  is  five  thousand  five  hundred  and  forty-one  feet),  and 
as  we  approached  across  the  little  plat  of  level  ground  in 
front  of  it,  found  we  had  arrived  at  a  "reapers'  festival;  "  and 
there  was  quite  a  gathering  of  peasants,  who  assemble  here 
on  the  first  Sunday  in  August,  dressed  in  the  Grindenwald 
costume,  for  dancing,  wrestling,,  and  other  festivities.  They 
26  ' 


402  GLACIERS   AND    AVALANCHES. 

had  been  driven  in-doors  by  the  rain ;  the  entry  of  the  little 
hotel  was  crowded;  and  however  romantic  and  picturesque 
the  Swiss  mountaineer  may  look  in  his  national  costume  in 
the  picture-books,  or  poetical  he  and  the  Swiss  maiden  may 
be  in  songs  and  ballads,  there  is  an  odor  of  garlic  and  to- 
bacco about  them  at  close  quarters  that  seriously  affects 
poetic  sentimentality. 

As  the  rain  had  ceased,  the  peasants  once  more  betook 
themselves  to  dancing  to  the  music  of  a  cracked  clarinet  and 
a  melodeon;  and  another  group  got  up  an  extemporaneous 
fight,  two  of  them  tumbling  down  a  dozen  or  fifteen  feet  into 
a  gully  without  injury,  while  we  put  the  house  under  contribu- 
tion for  wood  for  a  fire  in  the  best  room,  and  were  soon  drying 
our  clothes  by  a  blaze  of  claret-wine  boxes.  A  capital  moun- 
tain dinner,  in  which  tea,  honey,  sweet  bread,  butter,  and 
chamois  chops  figured,  was  so  much  better  and  cheaper  than 
the  soggy  doughnuts,  indigestible  pie,  sour  bread,  and  cold 
beans  that  used  to  be  set  before  the  traveller  at  the  Tip  Top 
House,  Mount  Washington,  New  Hampshire,  for  the  tip  top 
juice  of  one  dollar  a  head,  that  we  could  not  help  drawing 
the  comparison. 

A  rest  and  an  enjoyment  of  the  grand  view  of  mountain 
chain,  snowy  peaks,  and  vast  glaciers  that  surround  us,  and 
we  start  for  the  descent  to  Grindenwald.  Grand  views  we 
had  of  the  Wetterhorn,  the  Faulhorn,  and  the  upper  and 
lower  glaciers  of  Grindenwald.  We  pass  wdiere  avalanches 
have  torn  down  the  mountain-side,  and  thrown  huge  boulders 
about  like  pebbles,  then  over  patches  of  open  field,  where 
stunted  herbage  grows,  and  Alpine  roses  redden  the  ground 
with  their  blossoms ;  then  we  come  to  woods,  pastures,  and 
peasants,  and  reach  Grindenwald  just  before  nightfall,  to  find 
our  carriage  waiting  to  take  us  back  to  Interlaken,  which  we 
reached  after  an  absence  of  about  eleven  hours. 

Interlaken  is  a  grand  depository  and  mart  of  the  Swiss 
carved  wood  work,  Alpine  crystals,  &c. ;  and  grand  stores  of 
this  merchandise,  after  the  fashion  of  the  "  Indian  stores  "  at 
Niagara  Falls,  attract  the  tourist.     Some  of  this  carving  is 


GETTING   JEWED.  403 

very  beautifully  and  ai'tistically  done,  and  some  of  it  is  cheap 
and  not  worth  the  trouble  of  talcing  away;  but  it  is  posi-' 
tively  amusing  to  see  how  some  American  travellers  will  load 
themselves  down  with  this  trash  because  it  is  cheap.  Some 
of  the  smoke  crystals  and  rock  crystals,  fashioned  into  sleeve- 
buttons  and  watch-seals,  were  both  handsome  and  low  priced. 

I  strolled  into  the  little  shop  of  an  honest  old  Hebrew  from 
Prague,  who  had  a  cheaply-painted  little  sign,  in  English, 
that  he  sold  "  Garnets,  real  Stones,"  and  found  that  he  did 
not,  or  had  not  learned  to  charge  extravagant  prices;  he 
spoke  English,  and  was  teaching  it  to  his  little  daughter,  from 
a  primer,  when  we  entered,  for  "  English  and  Americans  buy 
garnet,  and  must  be  talk  wis."  The  old  fellow's  garnets 
were  excellent  and  cheap,  and  I  soon  had  sleeve-buttons,  and 
scarf-pin,  large  pin,  and  small  pin,  studs,  and  the  garnet  in 
forms  enough  to  render  me  ruddy  for  the  next  ten  years,  and 
was  preparing  to  take  my  departure,  when,  leaning  too  heavily 
upon  the  little  show-case,  my  elbow  went  through  it  with  a 
crash.  Here  was  a  chance  for  damage!  To  be  sure  the 
pane  of  glass  was  little  larger  than  a  sheet  of  foolscap ;  but 
we  must  pay  what  the  proprietor  charged;  and  was  he 
not  a  Jew  ?  Well,  this  Jew  thought  two  francs  would  amply 
reimburse  him ;  but  monsieur  had  been  so  kind,  he  could  only 
charge  him  one. 

After  being  deceived  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  cheated  on  the 
Boulevards,  swindled  barefacedly  in  the  Grand  Hotel,  and 
humbugged  outrageously  in  the  Palais  Royal,  I  rather  rel- 
ished being  "Jewed"  in  this  manner;  none  the  less  agreeable 
and  satisfactory  from  its  being  so  un-Christian-like  a  trans- 
action. Accordingly  I  hailed  two  other  Americans  from  the 
street,  men  who  "bought  everything  everywhere,"  one  of 
whom  had  got  one  of  his  trunks  so  mixed  up.  and  tightly 
packed  with  shirts,  curiosities,  gloves,  carved  wood-work, 
stockings,  photographs,  crystals,  boots,  guide-books,  under 
clothing,  fans,  and  stereoscopic  views,  that  lie  denominated  it 
the  Chinese  puzzle,  gave  xrp  trying  to  find  his  articles  of  wear- 
ing apparel  in  it,  and  sent  it  back  to  Paris.     I  hailed  these 


404  GIESSBACH. 

two  as  they  were  passing,  commended  the  merchandise  and 
"  much  kindness  in  the  Jew,"  and  the  old  fellow,  in  less  than 
half  an  hour,  felt  that  he  had  brought  his  glittering  gems 
from  Prague  to  some  purpose,  as  many  of  his  best  jewels 
changed  places  with  the  gold  Napoleons  of  the  Americans. 

The  little  hotel  at  Giessbach  was  full  when  we  arrived, 
although  we  had  telegraphed  a  day  in  advance  for  rooms ; 
and  a  polite  porter  met  us  at  the  pier,  as  the  boat  drew  up, 
with  regrets,  and  commended  the  "  Bear,"  which  was  situated 
in  the  village  of  Brienz,  opposite,  where  we  could  sup,  lodge, 
and  breakfast,  and  row  over  to  see  the  Giessbach  Falls.  There 
was  no  resource  but  to  go  to  the  Bear,  and  we  went ;  and 
after  a  bad  supper,  a  boat's  crew  of  two  men  and  a  woman 
rowed  us  back  across  the  lake  to  Giessbach  to  see  the  lime 
light  illumination  of  the  falls.  From  the  landing  to  the  ter- 
race commanding  the  foils  is  a  good  twenty  minutes'  climb ; 
but  in  the  darkness,  preceded  by  a  couple  of  guides  bearing 
lanterns,  there  is  not  much  opportunity  for  a  critical  examina- 
tion of  the  surrounding  scenery  :  however,  we  determined  to 
revisit  it  by  daylight,  and  all  agreed  that  the  idea  of  exhibit- 
ing a  waterfall  on  a  dark  night,  by  means  of  an  illumination, 
at  a  franc  a  head,  was  an  idea  worthy  a  Barnum,  or  at  least 
the  inventive  qualities  of  an  American. 

We  reached  the  terrace,  and  there  waited  in  the  blackness 
of  night  with  an  expectant  group.  We  could  hear  the  torrent 
dashing  and  tumbling  down  opposite  to  where  we  stood,  and 
high  above  among  the  cliffs,  but  our  vision  failed  to  penetrate 
half  a  dozen  yards  into  the  Cimmerian  gloom. 

Suddenly  a  little  rocket  shot  out  from  below  us ;  another, 
above,  with  momentary  flash  revealed  a  tumbling  cascade 
and  the  dark  green  foliage,  and  then  all  again  was  blackness. 
In  a  moment  or  two,  however,  a  bright  glare  shot  out  from 
below,  another  above  it,  another  and  another  flashed  up,  and 
then  from  out  the  blackness,  like  an  illuminated  picture,  we 
saw  the  beautiful  fall,  a  series  of  seven  cascades,  leaping  and 
tumbling  down  amid  the  verdant  foliage,  every  twig  of  which 
stood  out  in  the  powerful  light,  while  through  the  romantic 


AN    ILLUMINATED    WATERFALL.  405 

and  picturesque  ravine  poured  a  mass  of  foam  of  molten 
silver,  beneath  the  colored  light,  rich,  gleaming  and  dazzling. 
But  while  we  gazed,  the  hue  changed,  and  purple  equal  to 
Tyrian  dye  for  robe  of  Roman  emperor  tumbled  over  purple 
rocks,  and  dashed  up  violet  spray  into  the  air.  Once  more, 
and  the  rocks  were  ingots,  the  stream  was  Pactolus  itself,  the' 
bark  on  trees  at  the  brink  were  as  if  Midas  himself  had  smote 
them,  and  the  branches  bore  gold  leaf  above  the  yellow  cur- 
rent. But  it  changed  again,  and  a  torrent  red  as  ruby  gushed 
over  the  rocks,  the  ravine  was  lighted  with  a  red  glare  as  of 
a.  conflagration,  and  as  we  gazed  on  those  spurting,  tumbling 
crimson  torrents  there  was  something  horribly  suggestive  in 
the  sight. 

"  Blood,  blood !  Iago." 

But  Ave  did  not  see  it  long  in  that  light,  for  the  herbage, 
trees,  and  foliage  were  next  clothed  in  an  emerald  hue,  till 
the  ravine  looked  like  a  peep  into  Aladdin's  cavern,  and  the 
torrent  was  of  that  deep  green  tinge  which  marks  that  great 
bend  of  the  falling  water  when  it  pours  with  such  majestic 
sweep  over  the  crag  near  Table  Rock,  at  Niagara. 

The  green  faded  gradually,  the  torrent  leaped  a  few  mo- 
ments in  paler  light,  cascade  after  cascade  disappeared ;  we 
were  again  in  darkness,  and  the  exhibition  was  over.  Pre- 
ceded by  our  lantern-bearers,  we  gained  the  boat,  and  our 
crew  started  out  into  the  blackness,  of  the  lake  for  the  oppo- 
site shore,  and  for  one  of  the  dozen  groups  of  lights  that 
marked  the  landings. 

We  were  compelled  to  bear  with  the  "  Bear  "  for  one  night, 
but  cannot  commend  it  as  the  "Great  Bear"  or  a  planet  of 
much  brilliancy ;  so  we  bore  away  from  it  early  in  the  morn- 
ing for  the  opposite  shores,  again  to  see  the  falls  by  daylight, 
ere  the  steamer  started  on  the  return  trip  to  Interlaken.  The 
ascent  is  a  series  of  curves  up  a  delightful,  romantic  pathway, 
and  when  part  way  up  crosses  a  bridge  commanding  a  view 
of  a  portion  of  the  falls ;  but  from  the  charming  terrace  near 
the  hotel,  the  sight  of  the  series  of  six  or  seven  successive 
leaps  or  continuous  cascades  of  the  water  as  it  rushes  -down 


406  BERNE. 

an  impetuous  ft  taming  torrent  from  a  height  of  three  to  four 
hundred  feet  in  the  mountain  wall  is  magnificent.  We  sat 
beneath  the  trees  and  enjoyed  the  sight  till  the  last  moment, 
and  saw,  by  turning  towards  the  lake,  that  the  steamer  had 
left  the  opposite  shore,  then  reluctantly  tore  ourselves  away 
from  the  charming  scene,  and  descended  to  the  pier. 

A  pleasant  sail  back  to  Interlaken,  an  omnibus  ride  over 
to  a  steamboat  landing,  and  we  were  once  more  embarked  on 
another  Swiss  lake,  —  Lake  Thun, — a  beautiful  sheet  of  water 
ten  miles  long,  a  portion  of  its  banks  covered  with  vineyards, 
and  the  view  of  Alps  on  Alps,  in  every  direction  in  the  dis- 
tance, most  magnificent ;  there  were  our  old  acquaintances, 
the  Jungfrau,  Monk,  Eiger,  and  Wetterhorn,  also  the  Faul- 
horn,  and  dozens  of  others,  with  their  pure  frosted  summits 
and  blue  glaciers  all  around  us  as  we  paddled  -over  the  little 
blue  lake,  till  reaching  the  town  of  Thun,  we  stepped  into 
the  railway  carriage  of  the  Central  Swiss  Railway,  and  in  an 
hour  were  at  Berne,  at  the  fine  hotel  known  as  the  Berner- 
hoff,  which  commands  a  view  of  the  whole  line  of  snow-clad 
Bernese  Alps  in  one  contiimous  chain  in  the  distance,  looking 
like  gigantic  ramparts  thrown  up  by  Titans.  This  city  is  on 
the  River  Aare,  or,  rather,  on  the  high  bank  above  it ;  for  the 
river  is  more  than  a  hundred  feet  below,  and  that  portion  of 
the  city  towards  its  bank  seems  placed,  as  it  were,  on  a  grand 
terrace  for  a  lookout  to  the  distant  mountains. 

If  the  tourist  has  not  previously  learned  that  the  Bear  is 
the  heraldic  emblem  of  Berne,  he  will  learn  that  fact  before 
he  has  been  in  the  city  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Two  granite 
bears  guard  the  city  gates ;  a  shield  in  the  Corn  Exchange  is 
upheld  by  a  pair  of  them,  in  wood ;  fountains  have  their  efligy 
carved  upon  the  top ;  and  in  the  cathedral  square,  keeping 
guard  of  a  large  bronze  statue  of  a  mounted  knight  in  full 
armor,  Rudolf  von  Erlach,  are  four  huge  fellows,  the  size  of  life, 
in  bronze,  at  the  four  coiners  of  the  pedestal.  Then  the  city 
government  keep  a  bears'  den  at  the  public  expense  —  a  huge 
circular  pit,  in  which  three  or  four  living  specimens  of  their 
tutelar  deity  solemnly  promenade  or  climb  a  pole  for  buns 
and  biscuits  from  visitors. 


BEAKS.  407 

Wood-carving  can  be  bought  at  Berne  of  very  pretty  and 
artistic  execution,  and  the  wood-carvers  have  exhausted  their 
ingenuity  in  producing  groups  of  bears,  engaged  in  all  sorts 
of  occupations.  I  had  no  idea  what  a  comical  figure  this 
clumsy  beast  makes  when  put  in  such  positions.  We  have 
stopped  at  many  a  shop  window  and  laughed  heartily  at  the 
comical  groups.  Here  were  a  party  of  bears  playing  at  ten- 
pins:  a  solemn  old  Bruin  is  adding  up  the  score;  another, 
with  one  foot  advanced  and  the  ball  poised,  is  about  to  make 
a  ten  strike,  and  a  bear  with  body  half  bent  forward  watches 
the  eifect  of  the  roll.  Another  group  represented  a  couple  at 
the  billiard  table,  with  one,  a  rakish-looking  cub,  making  a 
scientific  stroke,  and  his  companion,  another  young  "  buster," 
with  arm  akimbo  and  cigar  in  mouth,  watching  them.  There 
was  a  group  of  bear  students,  all  drunk,  arm  in  arm  ;  two  old 
bears  meeting  and  shaking  hands  on  'Change ;  Avhole  schools 
studying,  with  a  master  putting  the  rod  upon  a  refractory 
bear ;  and  a  full  orchestra  of  bears  playing  on  every  variety 
of  musical  instrument ;  in  fact,  bears  doing  almost  everything 
one  had  seen  men  do,  and  presenting  a  most  irresistibly 
comic  appearance.  These  figures  were  all  carved  from  wood, 
and  were  from  a  couple  of  inches  to  six  inches  in  height. 
Scarce  any  tourist  leaves  without  a  bear  memento. 

The  great  music-box  and  carved  wood-work  stores  here  are 
museums  in  their  way.  Of  course  the  more  elaborate  and  best 
wrought  specimens  of  wood-carving  command  high  prices, 
but  nothing  like  the  extortions  of  the  fancy  goods  stores  in 
America.  Berne  is  a  grand  place  to  buy  music-boxes  in 
carved  wood-work,  and  cuckoo  clocks ;  some  of  these  con- 
trivances are  very  ingenious.  We  visited  one  great  « maga- 
sm"  near  the  hotel,  where  they  had  photograph  albums,  with 
carved  wood  covers,  that  played  three  tunes  when  you  opened 
them  ;  cigar  buffets  that  performed  a  polka  when  you  turned 
out  the  weed  to  your  guests ;  work-boxes  that  went  off  into 
quadrilles  when  you  lifted  the  lid,  and  tables  that  performed 
grand  marches  when  you  twisted  their  cirawer-knobs.  Every 
once  in  a  while  the  cuckoos  darted  out  of  one  or  two  of  the 


408  MUSIC-BOXES    AXD    AUTOMATONS. 

threescore  clocks,  of  which  no  two  were  set  alike,  bobbed 
their  heads,  cuckooed,  and  went  back  again  with  a  snap ;  and 
there  was  one  clock  fashioned  like  a  Swiss  c7icdet,  from  the 
door  of  which  at  the  hour  a  figure  of  a  little  fellow,  six  inches 
in  height,  emerged,  and,  raising  a  horn  to  his  mouth,  played 
an  air  of  a  minute's  duration,  and  retired.  Fatigued,  I  sank 
into  a  chair  whose  arms  were  spread  invitingly,  when  I  was 
startled  by  that  well-known  air,  the  Sailor's  Hornpipe,  going 
off  as  if  somebody  had  put  a  band  of  music  into  my  coat-tail 
jjocket.  Springing  to  my  feet,  the  music  stopped ;  but  as  I 
sat  down,  away  it  went  again  right  underneath  me.  It  was  a 
musical  chair,  and  I  sat  it  playing. 

We  strolled  through  the  curious  old  streets  with  the  side- 
walks  under  the  arcades  of  the  buildings,  saw  the  curious  old 
clock-tower,  where,  a  few  minutes  before  the  hour,  an  autom- 
aton cock  crows,  and  then  it  is  struck  by  a  comical  figure 
with  a  bell  and  a  hammer,  while  a  troop  of  automaton  bears 
appear,  and  march  around  on  a  wooden  platform.  An  old 
fellow  with  an  hour-glass  turns  it  over,  and  the  cock  con- 
cludes the  performance  by  again  flapping  his  wings  and 
crowing. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  places  of  promenade  in  the  city 
is  the  cathedral  terrace,  a  broad,  shady  walk,  three  or  four 
hundred  feet  long  and  two  hundred  or  more  wide.  It  is  one 
hundred  feet  above  the  river,  and  about  ninety  above  the  city 
street  at  the  base.  This  terrace  commands  a  fine  view  of  the 
whole  range  of  distant  mountains,  and  is  a  favorite  resort  on 
summer  evenings,  where  one  may  enjoy  an  ice-cream,  cigar, 
cup  of  coffee,  or  light  wine,  and  long  after  the  twilight  has 
deepened  in  the  valley,  wratch  the  rosy  hue  that  varies  its  tints 
upon  the  shining  mountain  peaks  in  the  distance. 

At  the  old  cathedral  we  heard  a  finer  and  larger  organ  than 
that  at  Lucerne,  but  an  inferior  performer,  which  made  even 
the  beautiful  harmony  that  pealed  beneath  the  Gothic  arches 
seem  tame  in  comparison.  From  Berne  by  rail,  a  ride  of  an 
hour  and  a  half  brought  us  to  Freiburg,  where  we  tarried  a 
few  hours  to  see  its  great  suspension  bridges,  and  hear  its 


THE    FEEIBUKG   ORGAN.  409 

great  organ.  The  hotel  .it  which  we  stopped  commanded  a 
fine  view  of  both  the  bridges,  black  threads  spanning  a  deep 
ravine.  Freiburg  is  upon  a  steep  rocky  hill-side,  at  the  base 
of  which  winds  the  river,  and  extending  over  the  chasm,  to 
the  opposite  bank,  are  the  graceful  and  wondrous  bridges. 
The  first  we  crossed  was  nine  hundred  and  eighty-five  feet 
long,  and  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet  above  the  riv^er 
beneath,  and  is  suspended  by  four  chains  of  about  twelve 
hundred  feet  in  length.  The  ends  of  this  great  bridge  are 
secured  by  one  hundred  and  twenty  huge  anchors,  fastened  to 
granite  blocks  sunk  deep  into  the  earth.  After  crossing,  we 
took  a  pleasant  walk  upon  the  lofty  bank  opposite,  from  which 
we  had  a  good  view  of  the  town,  with  the  River  Sarine  wind- 
ing close  about  it.  We  passed  on  to  some  distance  above, 
Avhere  the  other  bridge,  known  as  the  Bridge  of  Gotteron, 
spanned  a  romantic  rocky  ravine ;  and  from  the  centre  of  this 
structure  Ave  looked  down  two  hundred  and  eighty-five  feet, 
into  the  very  streets  of  a  little  village  directly  under  us, 
jammed  in  between  the  cliffs.  This  bridge  is  seven  hundred 
feet  Ioiigj. 

The  great  organ  in  Freiburg  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  finest 
in  Europe,  and  a  little  guide-book  says  it  has  sixty-seven  stops 
and  seven  thousand  eight  hundred  pipes,  some  of  them  thirty- 
two  feet  in  length.  We  heard  almost  the  same  programme 
performed  as  at  Lucerne,  and  had,  therefore,  opportunity  of 
comparison.  The  instrument  was  not  managed  with  the  con- 
summate skill  of  that  at  Lucerne,  and  the  vox  humana  stop 
was  vastly  inferior ;  but  in  the  Storm  piece  the  performer,  in 
addition  to  the  music  of  the  convent  organ,  fiuntly  heard  amid 
the  war  of  elements,  also  introduced  the  pealing  of  the  con- 
vent bell,  a  wonderfully  correct  imitation ;  and  in  the  Wed- 
ding March  the  blast  of  the  trumpet  was  blown  with  a  vigor 
and  naturalness  not  exceeded  even  by  human  lips. 

From  Freiburg  we  sped  on  to  Lausanne,  and,  without  stop- 
ping in  the  town,  rode  down  to  the  little  port  of  the  place, 
Ouchy,  on  the  very  bank  of  the  very  blue  and  beautiful  Lake 
Leinan,  and  stopped  at  the  Hotel  Beau  Rivage.     This  hotel  is 


410  LAKE    LEMAN. 

another  one  of  those  handsome  and  well-kept  hotels,  which, 
from  their  comfort,  elegant  surroundings,  and  many  con- 
veniences, add  so  much  to  the  tourist's  enjoyment.  This 
house  is  three  hundred  feet  long  and  five  stories  high,  fronts 
upon  the  lake,  and  has  a  beautifully  laid  out  garden  and  park 
of  nearly  two  acres  in  front  and  about  it.  My  fine  double 
room  looks  out  upon  the  blue  lake,  with  its  plying  steamboats 
and  its  superb  background  of  distant  mountains.  At  the 
little  piers  in  front  of  the  hotel  grounds  are  row  and  sail  boats 
for  the  use  of  visitors ;  and  some  of  the  former  are  plying 
hither  and  thither,  with  merry  parties  of  ladies  and  gentlemen 
beneath  their  gay  striped  awnings.  Flowers  of  every  hue 
bloom  in  the  gardens.  A  band  of  eight  or  ten  pieces  performs 
on  the  promenade  balcony  in  front  of  the  house  every  even- 
ing from  six  to  ten  o'clock.  There  are  reading-rooms,  parlors, 
and  saloons.  The  table  is  excellent,  and  attention  perfect. 
Prices  —  for  one  of  the  best  rooms  looking  out  on  the  lake, 
for  two  persons,  eight  francs ;  breakfast,  three  francs  each ; 
dinner,  four  francs  each ;  service,  one  franc  each ;  total,  for 
two  persons,  twenty-one  francs,  or  four  dollars  and  twenty-five 
Cents,  gold,  per  day ;  and  these  are  the  high  prices  at  the 
height  of  the  season  for  the  best  rooms.  Reasonable  enough 
here,  but  which  they  are  fast  learning  to  charge  at  inferior 
inns,  in  other  parts  of  the  country,  on  account  of  the  prodi- 
gality of  "  shoddy  "  Americans. 

The  view  of  Lake  Geneva,  or  Lake  Leman,  as  it  is  called, 
is  beautiful  from  Ouchy.  The  panorama  of  mountains  upon 
the  opposite  shore  extends  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  and  in 
the  sunset  they  assume  a  variety  of  beautiful  hues  —  red,  blue, 
violet,  and  rose-color.  We  have  been  particularly  fortunate 
in  arriving  here  while  the  moon  is  near  its  full ;  and  the  effect 
of  the  silver  rays  on  the  lake,  mountains,  and  surrounding 
s  jenery  is  beautiful  beyond  description. 

Up  in  Lausanne  we  have  visited  the  old  cathedral,  which  is 
built  upon  a  high  terrace,  and  reached  by  a  dirty,  irregular 
flight  of  plank  steps,  about  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  in 
number ;  at  any  rate,  enough  to  render  the  climber  glad  to 


SCENES   FROM   BY  BON.  411 

reach  the  top  of  them.  From  the  cathedral  terrace  we  have 
a  view  of  the  tortuous  streets  of  the  town,  with  its  pic- 
turesque, irregular  piles  of  buildings,  a  beautiful  view  of  the 
blue  lake,  and  the  battlements  of  the"  distant  peaks  of  Savoy. 
The  cathedral,  which  is  now  a  Protestant  church,  is  very  fine, 
with  its  cluster  columns  supporting  the  graceful  vaulted  roof 
over  sixty  feet  above.  It  is  three  hundred  and  thirty-three 
feet  long  and  one  hundred  and  forty-three  feet  in  width ;  and 
at  one  end,  near  where  the  high  altar  once  stood,  we  were 
shown  deep  marks  worn  into  the  stone  floor,  which  the  guide 
averred  were  worn  by  the  mailed  knees  of  thousands  of  cru- 
saders, who  knelt  there,  one  after  the  other,  as  they  received 
the  priestly  blessing  as  their  army  passed  through  here  on  its 
way  to  do  battle  with  the  Saracen,  and  recover  the  Holy 
Sepulchre. 

From  the  Beau  Rivage  Hotel  we  took  steamer,  and  sailed 
along  the  shore,  passing  Vevay,  Avith  its  handsome  hotels,  the 
romantic  village  of  Clarens,  and  finally  landing  at  Villeneuve, 
rode  up  to  the  beautifully  situated  Hotel  Byron.  This  hotel, 
although  small  compared  with  the  others,  was  admirably  kept, 
and  is  in  one  of  the  most  romantic  and  lovely  positions  that 
can  be  imagined.  It  is  placed  upon  a  broad  terrace,  a  little 
above  the  shore,  and,  being  at  the  very  end  of  the  lake,  com- 
mands an  extensive  view  of  both  sides,  with  all  the  lovely 
and  romantic  scenery. 

There,  as  Ave  sat  beneath  the  trees,  Ave  looked  upon  the 
scene,  Avhich  is  just  as  Byron  Avrote  about  it,  and  as  true  to 
the  description  as  if  written  yesterday.  The  "  clear  placid 
Leman "  is  as  blue  as  if  colored  Avith  indigo.  There  Avas 
Jura;  there  were  "the  mountains,  with  their  thousand  years 
of  siioav  ; "  the  wide,  long  lake  below  j  there,  at  our  left,  went 
the  swift  Rhone,  Avho 

"  cleaves  his  way  between 
Heights  which  appear  as  lovers  who  have  parted  in  hate." 

At  a  little  distance  we  could  see 

"  Clarens,  tweet  Clarens,  birthplace  of  deep  love ;  " 


412  THE   PKISON   OF    CHILI.OK. 

and  there,  directly  before  us,  was  the  "  small  green  isle  "  that 
the  prisoner  of  Chillon  saw  from  his  dungeon  window ;  and 
only  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  is  the  Castle  of  Chillon  itself. 
Down  the  dusty  road  Ave  started  to  visit  this  celebrated  place, 
which  almost  every  visitor  who  has  read  the  poem  feels  that 
he  is  acquainted  with. 

The  castle,  which  is  small,  is  on  a  point  of  land  that  juts 
out  into  the  lake,  and  its  whole  appearance  realizes  an  imagi- 
nation of  a  gloomy  old  feudal  castle,  or  prison.  It  was  for- 
merly surrounded  by  the  waters  of  the  lake,  and  is  still  con- 
nected on  one  side  with  the  land  by  a  drawbridge,  and  the 
lake  washes  up  to  its  very  base,  seven  hundred  feet  deep,  on 
the  other.  Something  of  the  romance  of  the  place  is  taken 
away  by  the  railway  track,  within  a  few  rods  of  the  draw- 
bridge, and  the  shrieking  locomotive  rushes  past  the  very 
point  where  once  stood  the  castle  outworks. 

The  massive,  irregular  walls  of  this  old  castle  have  five  or 
six  towers,  with  the  loop-holes  and  battlements  of  old  times. 
We  crossed  the  bridge,  passed  into  the  old  rooms  —  the  Hall 
of  Knights,  and  the  Chamber  of  Question,  where  the  rack 
and  other  instruments  of  torture  were  used  upon  the  victims 
of  jealous  tyrants.  Here  we  grasped  a  now  useless  fragment 
of  old  shattered  machinery,  which  had  once  been  bathed  with 
the  sweat  of  agony,  as  the  victim's  limbs  stretched  and 
cracked  beneath  the  terrible  force  of  the  executioner.  Here 
was  the  huo;e  stone  that  was  fastened  to  the  sufferer's  feet 
when  he  was  hoisted  by  the  wrists  to  the  iron  staple  above. 
This  was  the  square  chamber  in  the  solid  masonry,  where  the 
victim's  groans  were  unheard  by  those  without,  now  trans- 
formed into  a  peaceful  storehouse  for  an  old  wagon  or  two, 
with  the  sun  streaming  in  at  a  square  opening  in  the  thick 
wall.  But  a  few  steps  from  here,  and  we  come  to  the  oubliette, 
the  staircase  down  which  the  victim  made  three  or  four  steps, 
and  then  went  plunging  a  hundred  feet  or  more  into  the 
yawning  chasm  of  blackness  upon  the  jagged  rocks,  or  into 
the  deep  waters  of  the  lake  below. 

But  what  we  all  came  to  see  were  the  dungeons  beneath 


"SEVEN    riLLAKS    OF    GOTUIC   MOULD."  413 

the  castle,  the  scene  of  Byron's  story.  These  dungeons  are 
several  cells,  of  different  sizes,  dug  out  of  the  rock  upon 
which  the  massive  arches  of  the  castle  seem  to  rest.  The 
two  largest  of  them  are  beneath  the  dining  and  justice  halls. 
From  the  latter  we  were  shown  a  narrow  staircase,  descend- 
ing into  a  little  narrow  recess,  where  victims  were  brought 
down,  and  strangled  with  a  rope  thrown  across  an  oak  beam, 
which  still  remains,  blackened  with  age.  Near  it  was  an- 
other narroAV,  gloomy  cell,  said  to  be  that  in  which  the  pris- 
oner passed  the  night  previous  to  execution,  and  near  by  the 
place  where  thousands  of  Jews  were  beheaded  in  the  thir- 
teenth century,  on  accusation  of  poisoning  the  wells,  and 
causing  the  plague.  The  gloomy  place  fairly  reeked  with 
horror ;  its  stones  seemed  cemented  with  blood,  and  the  very 
sighing  of  the  summer  breeze  without  was  suggestive  of  the 
groans  of  the  sufferers  who  had  been  tortured  and  murdered 
within  this  terrible  prison. 

Next  we  came  to  the  dungeon  where 

"There  are  seven  pillars  of  Gothic  mould," 

and  there  are  the  pillars  to  which  the  prisoners  were  chained, 
and  there  is  the  stone  floor,  worn  by  the  pacing  of  the  pris- 
oner, as  his  footsteps,  again  and  again  as  the  weary  years 
went  by,  described  the  circuit  of  his  chain.  Bonivard's  pillar, 
to  which  he  was  chained  for  six  weary  years,  hearing  no 
sound  but  the  plashing  of  the  waters  of  the  lake  without,  or 
the  clanking  of  his  own  chain,  is  thickly  covered  with  auto- 
graphs, carved  and  cut  into  it.  Conspicuous  among  them  is 
that  of  Byron,  which  looks  so  fresh  and  new  as  to  excite  sus- 
picion that  it  has  been  occasionally  deepened,  "  Old  Mortal- 
ity "  like,  in  order  that  the  record  may  not  be  lost. 
Here  we  were,  then, 

"  In  Chillon's  dungeons,  deep  and  old." 

Now  every  word  of  Byron's  poem,  that  we  had  read  and 
heard  recited  at  school,  and  which  made  such  an  impression 
on  our  mind  when  a  boy,  came  back  to  us. 


414  chillon's  dungeons. 

Which  was  the  pillar  the  younger  brother  was  chained  to  ? 

There  was  "  the  crevice  in  the  wall,"  where  the  slanting 
sunbeam  came  in. 

Here  was  the  very  iron  ring  at  the  base  of  the  huge  pillar ; 
there  were  the  barred  windows  —  narrow  slits,  through  which 
the  setting  sun  streamed,  and  to  which  the  prisoner  climbed 
to  look  upon  the  scene  without,  — 

"to  bend 
Once  more  upon  the  mountains  high 
The  quiet  of  a  loving  eye." 

I  stood,  and  mused,  and  dreamed,  as  my  companions  passed 
on,  and  suddenly  started  to  find  myself  alone  in  that  terrible 
place,  and,  with  a  shudder,  I  hurried  after  the  voices,  leaving 
the  gloomy  dungeon  behind  me ;  after  which  the  white-cur- 
tained, quiet  room  of  the  Hotel  Byron  seemed  a  very  palace, 
and  the  beautiful  view  of  lovely  lake  and  lofty  mountain  a 
picture  that  lent  additional  charm  to  liberty  and  freedom. 

Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  so  many  jiteople  quote  Byron 
at  this  place?  For  it  is  his  poetry  that  has  given  such  a 
peculiar  and  nameless  charm  to  it,  that  if  one  has  a  spark  of 
poetic  fire  in  his  composition,  and  sits  out  amid  the  flowers 
and  trees,  of  a  pleasant  afternoon,  looking  at  the  blue  lake, 
the  distant,  white-walled  town,  the  little  isle,  with  its  three 
trees,  that  the  prisoner  saw  from  his  dungeon,  and  even  sees 
the  eagle  riding  on  the  blast,  up  towards  the  great  Jura  range, 
—  Jura,  that  answered,  — 

"  through  her  misty  shroud, 
Back  to  the  joyous  Alps,  that  call  on  her  aloud,"  — 

and  follows  up  his  thought  by  reading  part  of  the  third  canto 
of  Childe  Harold,  in  which  Lake  Leman  and  a  thunder  storm 
in  the  Alps  are  described,  he  feels  very  much  like  repeating  it 
aloud. 

Not  having  Childe  Harold  to  read,  I  found  relief  in  quoting 
those  passages  that  everybody  knows,  and  doing  the  follow- 
ing bit  of  inspiration  upon  the  spot :  — 


A   BIT    OF   INSPIRATION.  415 

Dreams  of  my  youth,  my  boyhood's  castles  fair, 

That  seemed,  in  later  years,  but  made  of  air, 

Are  these  the  scenes  that  now  my  soul  entrance, 

Scenes  hallowed  in  dim  history  and  romance  ? 

This  dark  old  castle,  with  its  wave-washed  wall, 

Its  ancient  drawbridge,  and  its  feudal  hall, 

Its  dreary  dungeon,  where  the  sweet  sun's  ray 

Scarce  tells  the  tenant  that  without  'tis  day; 

These  seven  grim  pillars  of  the  Gothic  mould, 

Where  weary  years  the  chained  captive  told, 

Waited,  and  wept,  and  prayed  for  freedom  sweet, 

Paced  round  the  dungeon  pillar,  till  his  feet 

Wore  in  the  floor  of  rock  this  time-enduring  mark 

Of  cruelty  of  men,  in  ages  past  and  dark. 

Glorious  Childe  Harold !     How,  in  boyhood's  age, 

Longing  I  traced  that  wondrous  pilgrimage. 

Thine  imperishable  verse  invests  these  mountains  grand 

With  new  glories.     Can  it  be  that  here  I  stand 

And  gaze,  as  thou,  upon  the  self-same  things? 

The  glassy  lake,  "  the  eagle  on  the  blast,"  who  slowly  wings 

His  flight  to  the  gray  peaks  that  lift  their  crests  on  high, 

In  everlasting  grandeur  to  the  sky? 

There  rise  the  mountain  peaks,  here  shines  the  lake; 

Familiar  scenes  the  beauteous  picture  make. 

The  ''white-walled,  distant  town,"  glassed  in  the  tide, 

And  on  its  breast  the  whiter  sails  still  ride, 

As  when  thine  eye  swept  o'er  the  lovely  view ; 

Thy  glorious  fancies  and  imagination  grew 

T'  immortal  verse,  and  with  a  nameless  charm 

Embalmed  the  scene  for  ages  yet  to  come. 

Others  shall,  deep  in  Chillon's  dungeon  drear, 

Muse  round  th'  historic  pillars,  for  'twas  here, 

If  we  accept  th'  entrancing  fable  of  thy  lay, 

The  brothers  pined,  and  wasted  life  away. 

The  guide  clanks  here  the  rusted  iron  ring  — 

We  shudder;   " iron  is  a  cankering  thing." 

Through  the  l'ent  walls  a  silver  sunbeam  flashes ; 

Paint  is  the  sound  of  waves  that  'gainst  them  dashes ; 

There  is  the  window  where,  with  azure  wing, 

The  bright  bird  perched  the  prisoner  heard  sing; 

Here,  'neath  our  very  feet,  perhaps,  the  place 

The  boy,  "his  mother's  image  in  fair  face," 

Was  laid.     'Tis  but  a  fable;  yet  we  love  to  trace 

These  pictures,  hallowed  in  our  youthful  dreams, 

And  think  thy  lay  all  truthful  as  it  seems. 


416  GENEVA. 

We  leave  Villeneuve,  and  the  pleasant  Hotel  Byron,  with 
regret,  and 

"  Once  more  on  the  deck  I  stand, 
Of  my  own  swift-gliding  craft;  " 

or,  in  other  words,  Ave  are  again  on  board  one  of  the  pretty 
little  lake  steamers,  paddling  through  the  blue  waters  of  Lake 
Geneva.  Back  we  went,  past  Vevay  and  Ouchy,  with  their 
elegant  hotels  and  gardens ;  past  Clarens,  and  amid  scenes 
of  exquisite  and  picturesque  beauty,  for  five  or  six  hours,  till 
we  reach  Geneva,  at  the  other  extreme  of  this  lovely  sheet 
of  water,  about  fifty-five  miles  from  Villeneuve.  There  is 
nothing  very  striking  in  this  city  to  the  tourist,  —  none  of 
those  curious  old  walls,  towers,  cathedrals,  or  quaint  and 
antique-looking  streets  that  he  finds  in  so  many  of  the  other 
old  European  cities.  There  is  a  long  and  splendid  row  of 
fine  buildings  upon  the  quay  on  the  river  bank,  elegant 
jewelry  stores  and  hotels,  a  few  other  good  streets,  and  the 
usual  amount  of  narrow  alleys  and  dirty  lanes. 

The  pleasantest  part  of  the  city  seen  during  our  brief  stay 
was  the  fine  quays,  and  the  town  at  that  part  of  the  lake 
where  it  begaii  to  narrow  into  a  river,  with  the  splendid 
bridge  spanning  it,  and  a  little  island  at  about  the  middle  of 
the  bridge,  or  rather  just  at  one  side  of  it,  and  connecting  with 
it  by  a  pretty  suspension  bridge.  This  little  island  is  Rous- 
seau's Island,  has  his  bronze  statue,  and  pleasant  shade  trees 
ivpon  it,  a  charming  little  promenade  and  seats,  and  is  an 
agreeable  resort,  besides  being  an  admirable  point  to  view 
the  blue  lake,  the  River  Rhone  emerging  from  it  with  arrowy 
swiftness,  and  the  snowy  Mont  Blanc  chain  of  mountains  in 
the  distance.  From  the  windows  of  our  room  in  Hotel  Ecu 
de  Geneve,  we  look  down  upon  the  swiftly-flowing  blue  tide 
of  the  river,  upon  which,  nearly  all  day,  black  and  white 
swans  float,  breasting  against  the  current,  and  apparently 
keeping  just  about  in  the  same  place,  arching  their  necks 
gracefully,  and  uoav  and  then  going  over  to  their  home  on  a 
little  isle  just  above  Rousseau's,  or  coming  on  shore  here  and 
there  —  popular  pets,  and  well  cared  for. 


JEWELKY    AND    MUSIC   BOXES.  417 

The  display  of  jewelry,  particularly  watches  and  chains, 
in  the  splendid  shops  along  the  grand  quay,  is  very  fine. 
Geneva  is  head-quarters  for  watches  and  chains,  and  nearly 
all  Americans  who  mean  to  buy  those  articles  abroad  do  so 
at  Geneva,  for  two  reasons ;  first,  because  a  very  good  article 
can  be  bought  there  much  cheaper  than  at  home ;  and  next, 
because  they  are  always  assured  of  the  quality  of  the  gold. 
None  is  sold  at  any  of  the  shops  in  Geneva  under  eighteen 
carats  in  fineness.  Very  handsome  enamelled  jewelry,  of 
the  best  workmanship,  is  also  sold  in  Geneva,  Indeed,  the 
quality  of  the  material  and  the  excellence  of  the  workman- 
ship of  the  Geneva  jewelry  are  obvious  even  to  the  uninitia- 
ted. In  Paris  more  elaborate  designs  and  a  greater  variety 
can  be  found,  but  the  prices  are  from  fifteen  to  twenty  per 
cent,  higher. 

I  had  always  supposed,  from  a  boy,  that  Geneva  was  over- 
flowing with  musical  box  manufacturers,  from  the  fact  that 
all  I  used  to  see  in  the  stores  at  home  were  stamped  with 
the  name  of  that  city.  Judge  of  my  surprise  in  finding  scarce- 
ly any  exhibited  in  the  shop  windows  here.  At  the  hotel  a 
fine  large  one  played  in  the  lower  hall,  with  drum  accom- 
paniment, and  finding  from  the  dealer's  cards  beside  it  that 
it  was  intended  as  a  sample  of  his  wares,  we  went  to  his 
factory  across  the  river,  where  the  riddle  was  explained  in. 
the  fact  that  the  retail  shopkeepers  demanded  so  large  a.  com- 
mission for  selling,  that  the  music-box  makers  had  refused  to 
send  any  more  to  them  for  sale.  This  may  be  a  good  move 
for  their  jobbing  trade,  but  death  to  the  retail  trade  with 
foreigners.     Berne  is  the  place  for  music-boxes. 

Returning  across  the  long  bridge  to  our  hotel,  we  saw  a 
specimen  of  Swiss  clothes  washing,  and  which  in  a  measure 
may  constitute  some  of  the  reasons  why  some  of  the  inhab- 
itants of  this  part  of  the  world  change  their  linen  so  seldom. 
Beneath  a  long  wooden  shed,  with  its  side  open  to  the  swift- 
flowing  stream,  were  a  row  of  stout-armed,  red-cheeked  wo- 
men bending  over  a  long  wash-board,  which  extended  into  the 
stream  before  them.  Seizing  a  shirt,  they  first:  gave  it.  a  swash 
27 


418  SWISS    WASHERWOMEN. 

into  the  stream ;  next  it  was  thoroughly  daubed  with  soap, 
and  received  other  vigorous  swashes  into  the  water,  and  was 
then  drawn  forth  dripping,  moulded  into  a  moist  mass,  and 
beaten  with  a  short  wooden  bludgeon  with  a  will ;  then  come 
two  or  three  more  swashes  and  a  thrashing  by  the  stalwart 
washerwoman  of  the  garment  down  upon  the  hard  board  be- 
fore her  with  a  vigor  that  makes  the  buttons  spatter  out  into 
the  stream  like  a  charge  of  bird  shot.  After  witnessing  this,  I 
accounted  for  the  recent  transformation  of  a  new  linen  gar- 
ment by  one  washing  into  a  mass  of  rags  and  button  splinters. 
This  style  of  washing  may  be  avoided  to  some  extent  by  par- 
ticular direction,  but  the  gloss  or  glazing  which  the  American 
laundries  put  upon  shirt  fronts  seems  to  be  unknown  on  the 
continent. 

The  sun  beat  down  fiercely  as  we  started  out  of  Geneva,  — 
one  of  the  hottest  places  in  Switzerland  I  really  believe,  —  and 
for  fifteen  miles  or  so  its  rays  poured  down  pitilessly  upon 
the  unshaded  road.  Grateful  indeed  was  a  verdant  little 
valley,  bounded  by  lofty  mountains,  and  the  cliff  road  shaded 
with  woods,  that  we  next  reached,  and  rattled  through  a  place 
called  Cluses ;  and  going  over  a  bridge  spanning  the  River 
Arve,  Ave  entered  a  great  rocky  gorge,  and  again  began  to 
feel  the  cold  breath  of  the  mountains,  and  come  in  sight  of 
grand  Alpine  ranges,  snowy  peaks,  and  rushing  waterfalls. 
Finally  we  reach  Sallanches.  Here  we  have  a  fine  view  of 
the  white  and  dazzling  peaks  of  Mont  Blanc  towering  into 
the  blue  sky,  apparently  within  two  or  three  miles  from  where 
we  stand,  but  which  our  driver  tells  us  are  nearly  fifteen  miles 
away. 

Again  we  are  in  the  midst  of  the  magnificent  scenery  of 
the  great  mountain  passes,  verdant  and  beautiful  slopes,  gray 
splintered  peaks,  huge  mountain  walls,  wild  picturesque  crags, 
waterfalls  clashing  down  the  mountain  sides  far  and  near, 
the  whole  air  musical  with  their  rush ;  and  the  breath  of  the 
Alps  was  pure,  fresh,  and  invigorating  as  cordial  to  the 
lungs. 

We  that  a  few  hours  ago  were  limp,  wilted,  and  moist 


GLACIEKS   BY   MOONLIGHT.  419 

specimens  of  humanity,  were  now  bright,  cheery,  and  ani- 
mated ;  we  quoted  poetry,  laughed,  sang,  and  exhausted  our 
terms  of  admiration  at  the  great  rocky  peaks  that  seemed 
almost  lost  in  the  heavens,  or  the  fir-clad  mountain  side  that 
jutted  its  dark  fringe  sharply  against  the  afternoon  sky.  Be- 
yond, as  ever,  rose  the  pure  frosted  peaks,  and  as  they  glowed 
and  sparkled,  and  finally  grew  rose-colored  and  pink  in  the 
sunset,  it  became  almost  like  a  dream  of  enchantment,  that 
darkness  gradually  blotted  out  from  view. 

We  had  started  from  Geneva  with  coat  and  vest  thrown 
aside  for  a  linen  duster;  we  descended  into  the  valley  of 
Chamouny  with  coat  and  vest  replaced,  and  covered  with  a 
substantial  surtout.  As  we  came  down  to  the  village,  the 
driver  pointed  out  to  us  What  looked  like  a  great  blue  steel 
shield,  thousands  of  feet  up  in  the  heavens,  hanging  sharply 
out  from  the  dome  of  impenetrable  blackness  above,  and  shin- 
ing in  a  mysterious  light.  It  was  the  first  beams  of  the  rising- 
moon,  as  yet  invisible,  striking  upon  the  clear,  blue  ice  of  a 
great  glacier  far  above  us.  It  gradually  came  more  distinctly 
into  view,  flashing  out  in  cold,  icy  splendor,  as  the  moon  began 
to  frost  the  opposite  mountain,  from  behind  which  it  seemed 
to  climb  into  the  heavens  with  a  fringe  of  pale  silver.  We  had 
expressed  disappointment  at  not  being  able  to  enter  Cha- 
mouny by  daylight,  but  found  some  compensation  in  tho 
novel  scene  of  moonlight  upon  these  vast  fields  of  ice,  with 
their  sharp  points  rising  up  like  the  marshalled  spears  of  an 
army  of  Titans,  glittering  in  the  moonlight,  or  stretching 
away  in  other  directions  in  great  sheets  of  blue  ice,  or  ghost- 
ly snow  shrouds  in  the  dark  distance.  We  reached  the  Hotel 
Royal  at  nine  and  a  half  P.  M.,  thoroughly  tired  with  our 
eleven  hours'  ride. 

Fatigued  with  travel,  I  certainly  felt  no  inclination  to  rise 
early  the  next  morning ;  and  so,  when  a  sonorous  cow-bell 
passed,  slowly  sounding  beneath  our  window  at  about  four 
and  a  half  A.  M.,  I  mentally  anathematized  the  wearer,  and 
composed  myself  for  a  renewal  of  sleep.  Scarce  comfort- 
ably settled  ere  another  cow-bell,  with  a  more  spiteful  clang, 


420  SUNRISE    ON   MONT   BLANC. 

was  heard  aj)proaching ;  clank,  clink,  clank,  clinkx  like  the 
chain  ahout  a  walking  ghost,  it  neared  the  window  at  the 
foot  of  my  couch,  passed,  and  faded  off  into  the  distance. 
That's  gone ;  but  what  is  this  distant  tinkle  ?  Can  it  be  there 
is  sleighing  here,  and  this  is  a  party  returning  home  ?  Tinkle, 
jinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle  —  there  they  come! 

"  Away  to  the  window  I  flew  like  a  flash, 
Tore  open  " —  the  curtain,  looked  out  through  the  sash,  — 
"  When  what  to  my  wondering  eyes  should  appear 
But" 

• 

a  procession  of  goats  being  driven  to  pasture  by  a  girl  in  the 
gray  light  of  the  morning!  With  an  ejaculation  more  fervid 
than  elegant,  the  couch  was  sought  again ;  but  it  was  of  no 
avail ;  a  new  campanologian  company  was  heard  approaching 
with  differently  toned  instruments  of  torture;  this  was  in 
turn  succeeded  by  another,  till  it  seemed  as  if  every  note  in 
the  bell-rino-mo;  gamut  had  been  sounded,  and  every  contri- 
vance,  from  a  church  to  a  tea  bell,  had  been  rung. 

After  half  an  hour  of  this  torture,  flesh  and  blood  could 
endure  it  no  longer,  and  I  went  once  more  to  the  window,  to 
find  that  beneath  it  ran  the  path  by  which  the  goats  and 
cattle  of  the  whole  district  were  driven  to  pasture,  and,  cast- 
ing my  eyes  upwards,  saw  the  gorgeous  spectacle  of  sunrise 
on  Mont  Blanc,  whose  glistening  peaks  were  in  full  view. 
Half  an  hour's  admiration  of  this  spectacle  was  enough  for 
one  not  clad  for  the  occasion,  and  having  made  the  discovery 
that  the  cows  and  goats  were  all  driven  to  pasture  before 
half  past  six  A.  M.,  we  took  our  revenge  in  two  hours  of  tired 
nature's  sweet  restorer  after  that  time,  before  discussing 
breakfist  and  topographically  examining  Chamouny. 

Chamouny  appears  to  be  a  village  of  eight  or  ten  hotels,  a 
church  or  two,  and  a  collection  of  peasants'  huts  and  poor 
Swiss  houses,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  the  grandest  and 
most  sublime  scenery  ever  looked  upon.  It  seems  to  be  a 
grand  central  point  in  Switzerland  for  the  tourists  of  all  na- 
tions.   The  great  hotels  are  full,  their  table  cVhotes  are  noisy 


VALLEY    OF   CHAMOUNY.  421 

with  the  clatter  of  tongues  of  half  a,  dozen  nationalities,  and 
gay  with  the  fashions  of  Paris.  The  principal  portion  of  the 
inhabitants  are  either  employes  of  the  hotels,  or  guides,  and 
these  Chamouny  guides  are  the  best,  most  honest,  and  most 
reliable  of  then  craft  in  Europe.  They  are  formed  into  a 
regular  association,  and  bound  by  very  strict  rules,  such  as 
not  being  permitted  to  guide  until  of  a  certain  age,  not  to  take 
the  lead  till  after  a  certain  amount  of  experience ;  and  absolute 
honesty  and  temperance  being  requisite  for  the  service.  In- 
deed, I  find  that  some  consider  honesty  a  characteristic  of 
the  Swiss  in  this  region;  for  upon  my  remonstrating  with  a 
fellow-tourist,  an  old  traveller,  for  leaving  his  watch  and  chain 
exposed  upon  his  dressing-table  during  his  absence  from  his 
room  at  the  hotel,  he  replied  there  was  no  danger,  as  the  at- 
tendants in  the  wing  of  the  house  he  occupied  were  all  Swiss, 
and  no  English,  French,  or  Americans  ever  came  there.  To 
be  a  guide  upon  the  excursions  from*  Chamouny  requires  a 
man  of  very  steady  habits,  and  of  unquestionable  skill  and 
endurance ;  and  all  of  these  men  that  we  saw  appeared  so. 
They  are  very  jealous  also  of  their  reputation,  and  never  al- 
low it  to  be  injured  by  incompetency,  dishonesty,  or  any 
species  of  imposition  upon  travellers. 

Here  we  are  in  the  midst  of  Alps,  a  whole  panorama  of 
them  in  full  view  on  every  side.  The  River  Arve,  a  dark- 
colored  stream  fresh  from  the  glaciers,  roars  and  rushes 
'through  the  valley  into  which  Chamouny  seems  sunk. 
Above  us  are  great  mountains  with  snowy  peaks ;  great 
mountains  'with  dark-green  pines  at  their  base,  and  splintered, 
gray,  needle-like  points ;  glittering  glaciers,  like  frozen  rivers, 
can  be  seen  coming  down  through  great  ravines ;  waterfalls 
are  on  the  mountain-sides ;  and  towering  up  like  a  gigantic 
dome,  the  vastness  and  awful  sublimity  of  which  is  inde- 
scribable, is  Mont  Blanc,  which  the  lover  of  grand  mountain 
scenery  will  pause  and  gaze  at,  again  and  again,  in  silent  awe 
and  admiration.  But  whither  shall  we  go  ?  There  are  dozens 
of  excursions  that  may  be  made.  Looking  across  a  level 
pasture. of  the  valley  from  our  window,  we  see  a  waterfall 


422  VIEW   FKOM   FLEGEKE. 

leaping  down  the  mountain.  An  easy  path  to  it  is  visible, 
and  we  make  a  little  excursion,  in  the  forenoon,  to  the  Falls 
of  Blatiere,  just  to  get  used  to  climbing;  for  at  two  P.  M. 
mules  were  at  the  door,  with  trusty  guides  at  their  heads, 
and  away  we  started  for  the  ascent  of  the  Flegere,  a  height 
on  the  spur  of  one  of  the  mountains,  commanding  a  fine 
view  of  the  Mer  de  Glace  and  Glacier  des  Bois,  which  are 
directly  opposite.  The  ascent  of  this  occupied  some  three 
hours,  and  the  path  reminds  one  very  much  of  the  ascent  of 
Mount  Washington,  New  Hampshire,  although  the  distant 
scenery  is  of  course  incomparably  more  grand.  We  went 
through  woods,  and  over  rocks,  across  stony  slopes,  and  up 
zigzags,  until  finally  we  reached  the  Cross  of  Flegere,  the 
point  of  view. 

From  this  perch  we  looked  right  over  across  on  to  the  Mer 
de  Glace,  where  it  gushed  out  like  a  great  frozen  torrent 
around  the  Montanvert,  and  the  Glacier  des  Bois,  another 
silent  ice  torrent,  that  flowed  out  of  it.  At  our  right,  far 
down,  five  thousand  feet  below,  rested  Chamouny,  with  the 
cloudy  Arve  running  beside  it.  Away  off  to  the  left  were  a 
number  of  needle-like  peaks,  with  vast  snow-fields  between 
them ;  and  nearly  in  front  of  us,  a  little  to  the  left,  rose  the 
sharp,"  jagged  points  about  the  Aiguille  Verte,  and  a  right 
lofty  needle  it  was,  its  point  piercing  the  air  to  the  height  of 
twelve  thousand  five  hundred  feet ;  and  then  there  were  the 
Red  Needles,  and  the  Middle  Needles,  and,  in  fact,  a  whole 
chain  of  peaks  of  the  range  —  the  best  view  we  have  had 
yet,  including,  of  course,  the  grand  old  snowy  sovereign, 
Mont  Blanc,  at  the  right,  overtopping  all  the  rest. 

An  hour  was  spent  gazing  upon  this  magnificent  scene; 
after  which  we  began  the  descent,  which  was  made  in  about 
an  hour  and  a  quarter,  bringing  us  to  the  hotel  door  at  seven 
P.  M.  Our  leading  guide  we  discovered  to  be  an  experienced 
one,  of  many  years'  service,  who  had  guided  Louis  Napoleon, 
on  his  visit  here  in  1861,  soon  after  Savoy  was  annexed  to 
France  —  a  service  of  which  he  was  quite  proud,  as  the  em- 
peror held  his  hand  during  his  excursion  to  the  centre  of  the 


CLIMBING   AGAIN-.  423 

Mer  de  Glace  (always  necessary  for  safety) ;  lie  was  also 
interested  in  the  American  war  of  the  rebellion,  and,  like  all 
the  Swiss  who  know  enough  to  read,  was  strong  on  the  Union 
side  of  the  question.  Being  an  old  soldier,  the  song  of 
"  Tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  marching,"  had  especial  charms 
for  him,  and  he  called  for  a  repetition  of  the  "Glory,  glory, 
hallelujah"  chorus,  till  he  had  mastered  the  words  himself, 
from  a  young  Union  officer  of  our  party.  Of  course  we 
were  glad  to  engage  our  cheerful  vieux  moustache  for  our 
excursion  on  the  morrow  to  the  Montanvert  and  Mer  de 
Glace.  In  the  evening  we  were  called  out  to  see  the  lights 
of  a  party  at  the  Grand  Mulets,  where  they  had  halted  for 
the  night,  preparatory  to  completing  the  ascent  of  Mont 
Blanc.  The  sight  of  the  little  twinkling  flame,  away  up  in 
the  darkness,  I  confess,  awakened  no.  desire  in  my  mind  to 
make  the  ascent ;  and  I  fully  agree  with  one  of  the  guide- 
books, which  says  it  cannot  conceive  why  people  will  undergo 
the  trial  and  fatigue  of  the  ascent,  when  they  can  risk  their 
lives  in  a  balloon  for  one  half  of  the  exjiense. 

Next  morning  we  started  with  guides,  and  on  muleback, 
for  the  Montanvert,  directly  opposite  the  Flegere,  the  scene 
of  our  ascent  the  day  before,  twenty  minutes'  ride  across  the 
meadow,  and  by  the  river  side;  and  then  we  began  to  ascend 
the  mountain,  through  romantic  pine  woods,  and  by  a  zigzag 
pathway  upon  the  brow  of  the  mountain,  crossing,  occasion- 
ally, the  deep  channel  of  an  avalanche,  or  an  earth-slide,  and 
getting  occasional  glimpses  of  the  valley,  below  or  the  moun- 
tain opposite,  till,  after  a  three  hours'  climb,  we  stand  upon  a 
rugged  crag,  overlooking  the  tremendous  and  awful  sea  •  of 
ice,  and  the  huge  mountains  that  enclose  it. 

This  great  petrified  or  frozen  stream,  between  its  precipi- 
tous banks,  seemed  more  like  a  mass  of  dirty  snow  or  dingy 
plaster  than  ice.  Looking  far  up  into  the  gorge  between  the 
mountains,  we  could  see  where  the  ice  and  snow  looked 
purer  and  more  glistening  than  that  directly  beneath  us. 
Indeed,  we  began  to  imagine  that  the  terrors  of  the  passage, 
told  by  travellers  and  letter-writers,  were  pure  fables ;  and, 


424  CROSSING    THE    SEA   OF   ICE. 

to  some  extent,  they  are ;  and  a  marked  instance  of  magni- 
fying the  dangers  is  shown  in  the  account  of  Miss  Frederika 
Bremer's  experience,  quoted  in  Harper's  Guide-Book,  which, 
to  any  one  of  ordinary  nerves,  who  has  recently  made  the 
passage,  appears  to  be  a  most  ridiculous  piece  of  affectation. 

We  descended  the  rocky  sides  of  the  cliff,  seamed  and 
creased  by  the  ice-flood,  and  stood  upon  the  great  glacier. 
At  first,  near  the  shore,  it  seemed  like  a  mixture  of  dirty 
snow  and  ice,  such  as  is  frozen  in  a  country  road  after  a  thaw, 
and  its  surface  but  slightly  irregular,  and  but  little  trouble  to 
be  anticipated  in  crossing;  but  as  we  advanced  far  into  its 
centre,  we  began  to  realize  more  forcibly  the  appropriateness 
of  the  title  given  to  this  great  ice-field.  On  every  side  of  us 
were  frozen  billows,  sharp,  upheaved  points,  great  spires  of 
ice,  congealed  waves,  as  if  a  mighty  torrent  were  tumbling 
down  this  great  ravine,  and  had  been  suddenly  arrested  by 
the  wand  of  the  ice-king  in  mid  career.  We  came  to  crevas- 
ses, —  broad  splits,  —  revealing  the  clear,  clean,  blue  ice,  as  we 
looked  hundreds  of  feet  down  into  them.  We  crossed  and 
passed  some  of  them*  on  narrow  ice-bridges,  not  more  than 
two  or  three  feet  wide,  where  notched  steps  were  cut  for  us 
by  the  forward  guide's  hatchet,  and  we  held  the  firm  grasp 
of  one  before  and  one  behind,  to  guard  against  a  slip,  which 
might  have  been  fatal. 

We  passed  little  pools,  which  were  melted  into  the  bosom 
of  this  silent  field,  and  now  and  then  a  huge  piece  of  rock  in 
the  midst  of  a  pellucid  pool,  which  had  been  borne  along 
upon  the  surface  of  this  slow-moving  stream  since  it  fell  from 
the  mountain-side,  and  gradually  sank  by  its  weight,  and  the 
action  of  the  sun.  Midway,  we  were  bidden  to  halt  and  look 
away  up  the  ravine,  and  see  the  frozen  stream  that  was  com- 
ing tumbling  down  towards  us.  There  was  genuine  ice 
enough  now  —  waves,  mounds,  peaks,  hillocks,  great  blue 
sheets,  and  foaming  masses.  It  sparkled  like  silver  beneath 
the  sunbeams  between  the  dark  framework  of  the  two 
mountains  on  either  side.  We  stopped  talking.  JSTot  a 
sound  was  heard.     The  stillness  was  as  profound  as  the  hush 


TILE    MAUVAIS   PAS.  425 

preceding  a  thunder  storm;  and,  as  we  listened,  the  crash  of 
a  great  boulder  that  had  become  loosed  by  the  slow-moving 
torrent,  falling  into  a  crevasse  from  its  brink,  echoed  for  a 
moment  in  the  solitude,  and  all  was  still  again. 

The  sure-footed  guides,  with  their  iron-spiked  shoes,  led  us 
on.  The  ladies  were  a  trifle  nervous  as  we  passed  one  or 
two  of  the  narrower  ice-bridges;  but  on  the  route  we  crossed 
there  were  not  above  three  or  four  such,  and  the  whole  pas- 
sage was  made  in  less  than  an  hour.  Arrived  at  the  other 
side,  we  clambered  up  the  cliff",  and  began  our  descent.  I 
should  have  remarked,  that  we  sent  back  the  mules  from 
Montanvert,  to  meet  us  upon,  our  descent  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Mcr  de  Glace,  on  foot,  by  the  way  of  the  Mauvais 
Pas,  a  tiresome,  but  most  interesting  tramp  of  three  or  four 
miles,  over  rugged  rocks  and  rough  pathways,  but  such  a 
one  as  gives  real  zest  to  Alpine  journeys,  from  its  exciting 
scenes. 

We  now  entered  upon  the  celebrated  Mauvais  Pas.  I 
had  read  so  much,  from  youth  upwards,  about  the  dangers  of 
this  pass,  that  I  began  to  wonder  if  we  had  done  right  in 
bringing  ladies,  and  how .  we  should  get  around  that  sharp 
projection  of  the  cliff*,  where  a  traveller  is  said  to  be  obliged 
to  hold  on  to  the  face  of  the  rock,  and  stretch  his  leg  around 
the  projecting  cliff,  and  feel  for  a  foothold,  the  guides  guard- 
ing him  from  a  slip  out  into  empty  space,  by  standing,  one 
on  each  side  of  the  projection,  and  forming  an  outside  hand- 
rail, by  holding  each  end  of  an  alpenstock.  Was  not  this 
the  pass  where  the  Swiss  hunter  met  the  chamois,  and,  find- 
ing that  neither  could  turn  backward,  had  lain  down  and  let 
the  herd  jump  over- him? 

But  how  these  travellers'  tales  and  sublime  exaggerations 
vanish  as  one  approaches  them !  The  Mauvais  Pas  may  have 
been  tres  mauvais  many  years  ago ;  but  either  its  dangers 
have  been  greatly  exaggerated,  or  the  hand  of  improvement 
has  rendered  it  pas  mauvais  at  present.  It  is  a  series  of 
steps,  hewn  for  some  distance  along  the  rocky  side  of  the 
mountain.     These  steps  are  about  three  feet  in  width  from 


426  ALPINE   EXPERIENCES. 

the  face  of  the  cliff,  into  which  a  strong  iron  rail  is  fastened, 
by  which  the  traveller  may  hold  on,  the  whole  distance. 
The  outer  edge  is  unprotected,  and,  at  some  points,  it  must 
be  confessed,  it  is  an  ugly  look  to  glance  down  the  tremen- 
dous heights  to  the  jagged  rocks  below,  that  form  the  shores 
of  the  icy  sea ;  but  in  some  of  the  more  dangerous  places, 
modern  improvement  has  provided  an  additional  safeguard 
in  an  outer  rail,  so  that  the  danger  is  but  trifling  to  persons 
of  ordinary  nerve. 

Finally,  we  reach  the  end  of  this  narrow  pathway,  and 
find  ourselves  at  a  small  house  on  a  jutting  precipice,  called 
the  Chapeau;  and  here  we  pause  and  breathe  a  while,  buy 
beer,  Swiss  bread  and  honey,  curious  Alpine  crystals,  &c, 
and  enjoy  another  one  of  those  wondrous  Alpine  views 
which,  once  seen,  live  in  memory  forever  as  a  scene  of  sub- 
lime beauty  and  grandeur. 

They  call  all  the  mountain  peaks  needles  here.  There  were 
the  Aiguilles  de  Charm  oz,  ten  thousand  two  hundred  feet 
high,  and  ever  so  many  other  "aiguilles"  whose  names  I  have 
not  noted.  As  we  looked  down  here  upon  the  glacier,  it 
seemed  to  be  more  broken  and  upheaved ;  it  rose  into  huge, 
sharp,  icicle-pointed  waves,  rent  in  every  direction  by  large 
cracks  and  fissures ;  the  great  pointed  pinnacles  and  upheav- 
als assumed  as  curious  appearances  as  the  frost-work  upon  a 
window ;  there  were  a  procession  of  monks,  the  pinnacles  of 
a  Gothic  cathedral,  and  the  ruins  of  a  temple.  It  is  here  that 
the  Mer  de  Glace  begins  to  debouche  into  the  Glacier  des 
Bois,  which,  in  turn,  runs  down  into  the  Chamouny  valley, 
and  from  which  runs  the  Arveiron ;  in  fact,  the  end  of  this 
glacier  is  the  river's  source. 

Down  we  go  through  the  woods,  and  finally  strike  upon  a 
rocky,  rugged  path,  on  through  a  mass  of  miles  of  pulverized 
rock,  fragments  of  boulders,  stone  chips,  and  the  rocky  debris 
of  ages,  which  has  been  brought  down  by  the  tremendous 
grinding  of  the  slow-moving  glaciers,  till  we  reach  a  valley 
covered  with  the  moraine  in  front  of  the  great  ice  arches  of 
the  Glacier  des   Bois,  out   of  which  rushes  the  river.     Of 


UNDEIt   A    GLACIER.  4t'7 

course  tiere  was  a  wooden  but,  with  Swiss  crystal,  carved 
work,  s  -id  o  fee  of  a  franc,  if  we  would  like  to  go  under  the 
glacier.  There  had  been  a  winding  cavern  hewed  into  this 
great  ice  wall,  and  planks  laid  along  into  it  for  two  hundred 
feet  or  more,  and,  with  umbrellas  to  protect  us,  the  author 
and  two  other  gentlemen  started  for  this  ice  grotto,  about  a 
hundred  rods  distant. 

Arrived  near  its  mouth,  we  beheld,  on  one  side,  the  river, 
rushing  out  from  under  a  great  natural  ice  arch,  fifty  feet  in 
height,  the  glacier  here  appearing  to  be  about  one  hundred 
feet  in  height ;  the  stream  came  out  with  a  force  and  vigor, 
gained,  doubtless,  from  running  a  long  distaace  beneath  the 
ice  before  it  came  out  into  the  daylight. ,  The  ice  grotto, 
which  has  been  hollowed  out  for  visitors,  is  eight  or  ten  feet 
high,  and  the  guide,  who  goes  on  before,  lights  it  up  with 
numerous  candles,  placed  at  intervals,  causing  the  clear,  deep- 
blue  ice  to  resemble  walls  of  polished  steel ;  but  the  thought 
suggested  by  one  visitor  when  we  had  reached  the  farther- 
most extremity,  "  What  if  the  arches  overhead  should  give 
way  beneath  the  pressure  ?  "  did  not  incline  us  to  protract  our 
stay  in  its  chilly  recesses  ;  so,  returning  to  the  chalet,  where 
our  mules  were  waiting,  that  had  been  sent  round  and  down 
from  the  Montanvert,  we  completed  the  day's  laborious  ex- 
cursion by  an  hour's  ride  back  to  the  hotel  at  Chamouny. 

Now  good  by  to  Chamouny,  and  away  to  the  Tete  ISToir 
Pass,  on  our  way  to  Martigny.  Starting  at  eight  o'clock 
A.  M.,  a  vehicle  carried  us  to  Argentiere,  about  two  hours' 
ride,  where  mules  were  found  in  waiting,  by  the  aid  of  which 
the  rest  of  the  journey,  occupying  the  remainder  of  the  day, 
was  made,  though  why  the  road  of  this  pass  is  not  laid  out 
like  others,  as  a  carriage  road,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  compre- 
hend, unless  it  be  that  the  fees  for  mules  and  guides  are  too 
profitable  a  source  of  income  to  be  easily  relinquished.  In- 
deed, a  large  portion  of  the  pass,  in  its  present  condition, 
could  be  traversed  safely  by  a  one-horse  vehicle  —  some  im- 
provement over  the  tedious  muleback  ride  of  a  whole  day's 
duration. 


428  THE    TETE    NOIE    PASS. 

The  road'  is  romantic,  pleasant,  and  picturesque,  with  deep 
gorges,  dark  pine-clad  mountains,  crags,  and  Avaterfalls.  In- 
vigorated by  the  fresh  mountain  air,  we  left  our  mules  to 
•follow  in  the  train  with  the  guides  and  ladies,  and,  alpenstock 
in  hand,  trudged  forward  on  foot,  keeping  in  advance  by- 
short  cuts,  and  having  an  infinitely  better  opportunity,  under 
the  guidance  of  a  tourist  who  had  been  over  the  route,  of 
enjoying  the  scenery.  We  passed  two  or  three  waterfalls, 
walked  over  a  spot  noted  as  being  swept  by  avalanches  in  the 
early  spring,  where  was  a  cross  in  memory  of  a  young  count 
and  two  guides  who  fell  beneath  one :  the  guides  say,  when 
the  avalanche  is  heard  approaching,  it  is  already  too  late  to 
think  of  escaping,  so  swift  is  its  career,  and  nothing  but  the 
hand  of  Providence  will  save  the  traveller  from  destruction. 

Our  path  carried  us  through  a  wild,  stony  ravine,  with 
great  mountains  on  either  side,  and  the  inevitable  river  in  the 
centre,  rushing  and  foaming  over  the  rocks.  Then  we  went 
up  and  over  a  beautiful  mountain  path,  commanding  fine 
views  of  the  distant  mountains,  with  deep  gorges  below, 
then  wound  round  the  base  of  the  Tete  Noir  Mountain  and 
through  the  woods,  and  a  tunnel,  pierced  through  a  rocky 
spur  of  the  mountain,  that  jutted  out  upon  the  pass.  "We 
saw  away  across,  from  one  point  on  our  journey,  the  wild- 
lookins:  road  that  was  the  route  to  the  Pass  of  the  Great  St. 
Bernard,  and  at  another,  looked  far  down  into  the  valley, 
where  we  could  see  the  River  Trient  rushing  and  tumbling 
on  its  course.  We  soon  came  to  a  point,  before  commencing 
our  descent,  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  Rhone  valley  as 
far  as  Sion,  spread  out,  seemingly,  as  flat  as  a  carpet,  with  the 
river  meandering  through  its  entire  length,  the  white  chalets 
and  brown  roads  looking  rather  hot  in  the  blaze  of  the  afternoon 
sunlight.  The  view  of  this  valley — what  little  we  saw  of  it  — 
is  far  better  at  this  distance  than  when  one  reaches  its  tumble 
down  towns  and  poor  inhabitants. 

We  went  down  a  pleasant  descent,  past  orchards  and  firm- 
houses,  till  we  reached  Martigny,  where  we  had  supper,  and 
were  nearly  devoured  by  mosquitos,  so  that  at  nine  P.  M. 


ITALIAN   POST   DEIVEKS.  429 

we  were  glad  to  take  the  railway  train.  How  odd  it  seemed 
to  be  rattling  over  :i  railroad,  in  a  comfortable  railway  carriage, 
after  our  mountain  experiences !  The  train,  at  quarter  past 
ten  o'clock,  landed  us  at  Sion,  where  we  took  up  our  quarters 
at  the  Hotel  do  la  Poste,  an  Italian  inn,  with  an  obsequious 
little  French  landlord,  who  was  continually  bowing,  and  rub- 
bing his  hands,  as  if  washing  them. with  invisible  soap,  and 
saying,  "  Oui,  monsieur,'1''  to  every  question  that  was  asked 
him,  and  withal  looking  so  like  the  old  French  teacher  of  my 
boyhood's  days,  that  it  seemed  as  though  it  must  be  the  old 
fellow,  who  had  stopped  growing  old,  and  been  transported 
here  by  some  mysterious  means. 

The  fifteen-mile  mountain  tramp  I  had  made,  and  the  day's 
journey,  as  a  whole,  caused  the  not  very  comfortable  beds  of 
the  hotel  to  seem  luxurious  couches  soon  after  arrival,  and 
we  therefore  deferred  interviews  with  Italian  drivers,  a  crowd 
of  whom  were  in  attendance  from  Stressa,  via  the  Simplon 
Road,  and  who  Avere  anxious  to  open  negotiations,  till  the 
next  morning,  notwithstanding  their  assertions  that  they 
might  be  engaged  and  gone  when  Ave  should  come  down  to 
breakfast,  and  that  Ave  should,  therefore,  lose  the  magnificent 
opportunities  they  Avere  offering. 

We  Avere  fortunate  in  having  the  company  of  a  gentleman 
who  had  frequently  been  over  this  route,  and  fully  understood 
the  modus  operandi  of  making  contracts  with  Italian  post 
drivers,  as  will  bo  seen.  It  seems  that  there  are  often  drivers 
here  at  Sion  Avho  have  driven  parties  from  Stressa  (via  the 
Simplon)  Avho  desire  to  get  a  freight  back,  and  Avith  Avhom 
the  tourist,  if  he  understands  matters,  can  make  a  very  reason- 
able contract,  as  they  prefer  to  take  a  party  back  at  a  low  rate, 
rather  than  to  wait  long  at  an  expense,  or  return  with  empty 
vehicles.  If  there  be  more  than  one  (as  in  our  case)  of  these 
waiting  post  drivers,  there  is  likely  to  be  a  competition  among 
them,  A^hich  of  course  results  to  the  tourist's  advantage. 

Therefore,  after  breakfast,  instead  of  "  having  been  engaged 
and  gone,"  Ave  found  two  or  three  anxious  drivers,  Avho  jab- 
bered with  all  their  might  about  the  merits  of  their  respective 


430  MiKLNTG   A   CCNTKACT. 

vehicles  and  themselves,  and  were  anions  *o  be  engaged 
The  price  mentioned  as  bon  marche  at  first  was  four  hundred 
francs  for  our  whole  party  of  seven  for  the  three  days'  journey 
over  the  Simplon  Pass  to  Lake  Maggiore;  and  really,  I 
thought  it  was,  and  had  I  been  the  negotiator  for  the  party? 
should  have  closed ;  but  not  so  he  who  acted  for  us  —  acted 
in  more  senses  than  one  ;  for  when  this  price  was  named,  he 
gave  the  true  French  deprecatory  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 
filled  his  pipe,  and  sat  down  on  the  hotel  portico  to  smoke. 
Ere  long  he  was  waited  upon  by  driver  number  two,  who 
represented  that  three  hundred  and  fifty  francs  would  induce 
him  to  take  the  party,  "if  monsieur  would  start  to-day." 
Smoker  only  elevated  his  eyebrows,  and  thought  if  he 
"  waited  a  few  days  there  would  be  more  carriages  here." 

In  fifteen  minutes  the  price  was  down  to  three  hundred 
francs  —  no  anxiety  on  the  part  of  monsieur  to  close. 

A  smart  young  driver,  whose  team  had  been  "  eating  their 
heads  off"  for  three  days,  proposed  two  hundred  and  twenty 
francs,  and  to  pay  all  expenses,  except  our  own  hotel  bills ;  and 
monsieur  concluded  to  accept  him,  putting  the  agreement,  to 
prevent  mistakes,  in  writing,  which  is  necessary  with  the 
Italian  drivers.     The  contract  was  duly  signed. 

"  When  would  monsieur's  party  be  ready  ?  " 

"  In  fifteen  minutes ; "  and  the  calm,  indifferent  smoker,  to 
the  driver's  surprise,  became  a  lithe,  elastic  American,  driving 
half  a  dozen  servants  nearly  crazy  by  hurrying  them  down 
with  the  luggage,  mustering  the  whole  party  with  explana- 
tions of  the  necessity  of  starting  at  once,  and  helping  the 
landlord's  major-domo  make  out  the  bills,  without  giving  any 
opportunity  of  getting  in  extras  that  we  didn't  have. 

He  shouted  in  Italian  at  the  driver,  who,  with  the  stable- 
helpers,  was  putting  in  the  horses,  jabbered  in  French  with 
the  hotel  servants,  and  in  half  an  hour  we  were  seated  in  the 
vehicle,  with  the  luggage  strapped  on  behind,  and  the  old  land- 
lord and  the  waiters  and  porters  bowing  at  the  door,  as  we 
started,  amid  a  volley  of  whip  smacks,  sounding  like  the 
firing  of  a  bunch  of  Chinese  crackers. 


THE    RHONE    VALLEY.  431 

These  post  drivers  are  marvellously  skilful  at  whip-snapping. 
They  can  almost  crack  out  a  tune  with  their  whips,  and  they 
make  a  noise  consistent  with  their  ideas  of  the  importance  of 
their  freight,  or  perhaps  as  a  signal  to  the  landlords  that  espe- 
cial attention  is  required,  as  distinguished  foreigners  are  com- 
ing ;  for,  as  they  approached  hotels,  or  drove  into  their  court- 
yards, it  was  always  with  eight  or  a  dozen  pistol-like  cracks 
in  succession  that  brought  out  a  bowing  landlord  and  string 
of  servants,  who  formed  a  double  line  from  the  carriage 
to  the  door,  welcoming  the  tourist  in  with  great  deference 
and  politeness.  On  the  road  the  whip-cracks  admonish  all 
peasants,  donkey-carts,  and  market-wagons  to  sheer  off,  and 
allow  monsieur's  carriage  to  pass ;  and,  as  he  enters  a  little 
village,  the  fusillade  from  his  lash  brings  half  the  population 
to  the  doors  and  windows. 

Our  first  day's  journey,  after  leaving  Sion,  was  through  the 
Rhone  Valley  —  rather  a  hot  ride,  and  tame  and  uninteresting 
after  the  grand  views  we  had  been  enjoying.  We  passed 
Sierre  on  a  hill-side,  rattled  over  a  bridge  across  the  Rhone, 
having  a  view  of  pleasantly-wooded  hills  near  at  hand,  and 
the  great  mountains  in  the  background ;  then  passed  two  or 
three  other  villages,  and  finally  halted  at  a  place  called  Tour- 
temagne  for  dinner.  After  this  we  pushed  on,  went  past 
Visp,  and  in  the  afternoon  trotted  into  Brieg,  where,  with  a 
view  to  a  good  night's  rest  before  the  morrow's  journey,  we 
stopped  for  the  night.  After  tea  we  had  a  magnificent  view 
of  sunset  upon  the  lofty  snow-clads  above  us,  which  fairly 
glowed  in  a  halo  of  rose-pink  —  a  beautiful  and  indescribable 
effect.  Far  away  up  on  one  of  the  mountain  sides  Ave  were 
pointed  to  the  road  over  which  we  were  to  jom-ney  on  the  mor- 
row. After  an  early  breakfast  we  started  off  with  the  irsual 
fusillade  of  whip-cracks,  and  were  soon  upon  the  famous  Sim- 
plon  Road. 

This  magnificent  road  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  old 
world.  Its  cost  must  have  been  enormous,  and  the  cost  of 
keeping  it  in  such  splendid  condition  very  large,  owing  to  the 
injury  it  must  inevitably  sustain  from,  storms  and  avalanches 


432  THE    SIMPLOX   PASS. 

during  the  winter  season.  The  cost  of  the  road  is  said  to 
have  averaged  over  three  thousand  pounds  sterling  per  mile. 
The  splendid  engineering  excites  admiration  from  even  the 
inexperienced  in  those  matters.  You  go  sometimes  right  up 
the  very  face  of  a  steep  mountain,  that  would  seem  to  have 
originally  been  almost  inaccessible,  by  means  of  -a  series  of 
zigzags.  Then  again  the  road  winds  round  a  huge  mountain 
wall,  thousands  of  feet  high  on  one  side,  with  a  yawning 
ravine  thousands  of  feet  deep  on  the  other.  Long  tunnels 
pierce  through  the  very  heart  of  mountains.  Bridges  span 
dizzy  heights  and  mad  torrents.  Great  galleries,  or  shelters, 
protect  some  parts  of  the  road,  which  are  suspended  midway 
up  the  mountain,  from  the  avalanches  which  ever  and  anon 
thunder  down  from  above.  At  one  place,  where  a  great  roar- 
ing cataract  comes  down,  the  road  is  conducted  safely  under 
the  sheet,  which  scatters  but  a  few  drops  of  spray  upon  it,  ex- 
cept the  covered  portion,  as  it  leaps  clear  over  the  passage,  and 
plunges  into  the  deep  abyss  below,  a  mass  of  thundering  foam. 

This  part  of  the  road,  we  were  told,  although  it  was  a  sec- 
tion not  six  hundred  feet  long,  was  one  of  the  most  difficult 
to  construct,  and  required  the  labor  of  a  hundred  men  for 
over  a  year  and  a  half  before  it  could  be  completed,  it  being 
necessary  in  some  places  to  suspend  the  workmen  by  ropes 
from  above,  until  a  platform  and  a  footing  could  be  built. 
And,  indeed,  standing  there  with  the  torrent  roaring  above, 
and  leaping  clear  over  our  heads  away  down  into  that  rocky 
gorge,  the  clean,  broad  road  the  only  foothold  about  there,  Ave 
could  only  wonder  at  human  skill,  perseverance,  and  ingenuity 
in  overcoming  natural  obstacles.  From  the  great  glaciers  far 
above  the  Kaltwasser  come  several  other  rushing  cascades, 
one  of  which,  as  you  approach,  seems  as  if  it  would  drop 
directly  upon  the  road  itself,  but  hits  just  short  of  it,  and 
plunges  directly  under,  so  that  you  can  stand  on  the  arched 
bridge,  and  look  right  at  it,  as  it  conies  leaping  fiercely  to- 
wards you. 

Murray  gives  the  bridges,  great  and  small,  on  this  wonder- 
ful road    between  Brieg  and  Sesto    as  "six   hundred   and 


THE    GORGE    OF    GONDO.  483 

eleven,  in  addition  to  the  far  more  vast  and  costly  construc- 
tions, such  as  terraces  of  massive  masonry,  miles  in  length, 
ten  galleries,  either  cut  out  of  the  living  rock  or  built  of  solid 
stone,  twenty  houses  of  refuge  to  shelter  travellers,  and  lodge 
the  laborers  constantly  employed  in  taking  care  of  the  road. 
Its  breadth  is  throughout  at  least  twenty-five  feet,  in  some 
places  thirty  feet,  and  the  average  slope  nowhere  exceeds  six 
inches  in  six  feet  and  a  half." 

After  emerging  from  the  Kaltwasser  Glacier  Gallery,  we 
had  a  superb  view  of  the  Rhone  Valley,  with  Brieg,  which 
we  had  left  in  the  morning,  directly  beneath  us,  while  away 
across  the  valley,  distinctly  visible  in  the  clear  atmosphere, 
rose  the  Bernese  Alps,  with  the  Breithorn,  and  Aletshorn,  and 
the  great  Aletsch  Glacier  distinctly  visible.  At  the  highest 
point  of  the  pass  is  the  Hospice,  over  six  thousand  two  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea ;  and  here  we  halted  for 
a  lunch,  and  then  trudged  on  in  advance,  leaving  the  carriage 
and  ladies  to  overtake  us  —  enjoying  the  wild  scenery  of  dis- 
tant snow-capped  mountains,  great  glaciers,  with  cascades 
pouring  from  their  ruffled  edges  to  the  green  valleys  that  were 
far  below. 

Soon  after  passing  the  little  village  of  Simplon,  we  came  to 
the  never-to-be-forgotten  ravine  of  Gondo,  one  of  the  wildest, 
grandest,  and  most  magnificent  gorges  in  the  whole  Alps. 
The  ravine,  as  you  proceed,  grows  narrower  and  narrower, 
with  its  huge,  lofty  walls  of  rock  rising  on  either  side.  The 
furious  River  Diveria  rushes  through  it  like  a  regiment  of 
white-plumed  cavalry  at  full  gallop,  and  its  thundering  roar  is 
not  unlike  the  tremendous  rush  of  their  thousand  hoof-beats, 
as  it  goes  up  between  these  massy  barriers.  The  gorge  nar- 
rows till  there  is  nought  but  road  and  river,  with  the  black 
crags  jutting  out  over  the  pathway,  and  we  come  to  a  huge 
black  mass  that  seems  a  barrier  directly  across  it ;  but  through 
this  the  determined  engineers  have  bored  a  great  gallery,  and 
we  ride  through  a  tunnel  of  six  hundred  and  eighty-three  feet 
in  length,  to  emerge  upon  a  new  surprise,  and  a  scene  which, 
called  forth  a  shout  of  admiration  from  every  one  of  us*. 
28 


434  FRESSINONE    "WATERFALL. 

As  we  emerged  from  this  dark,  rocky  grotto,  we  beheld  the 
towering  masses  of  rock  on  either  side,  like  great  walls  of 
granite  upholding  the  blue  masonry  of  heaven,  that  seemed 
bent  like  a  vaulted  arch  above ;  and  from  one  side,  right  at 
our  very  path,  coming  from  far  above  with  a  roar  like  thunder, 
leaped  a  mass  of  foam,  like  a  huge  cascade  of  snowy  ostrich 
plumes  —  the  Fressinone  Waterfall,  which  tossed  its  fine, 
scintillating  spray  upon  the  slender  bridge  that  spanned  the 
gorge,  while  the  roaring  cataract  itself  passed  beneath,  strik- 
ing sixty  or  eighty  feet  below  upon  the  black  rocks.  It  is  a 
magnificent  cascade,  and  prepared  us  for  the  grandeur  of  the 
great  gorge  of  Gondo,  with  its  huge  walls  of  rock  rising  two 
thousand  feet  high,  which  seemed,  when  "we  were  hemmed  in 
to  their  prison  walls  of  black  granite,  as  though  there  was  no 
possible  way  out,  except  upwards  to  the  strip  of  sky  that 
roofed  the  narrow  ravine. 

Other  cascades  and  waterfalls  we  saw,  but  none  like  the 
magnificent  Fressinone,  with  the  graceful  and  apparently 
slender-arched  bridge,  that  almost  trembled  beneath  its  rush 
as  we  stood  upon  it  —  the  huge  rocky  walls  towering  to 
heaven,  the  black  entrance  to  the  tunnel  just  beyond,  looking, 
in  the  midst  of  this  wild  scene  of  terrific  grandeur,  like  the 
cavern  of  some  powerful  enchanter  —  the  wild,  deep  gorge, 
with  the  foaming  waters  swiftly  gliding  away  in  masses  of 
tumbling  foam  far  below,  and  all  the  surroundings  so  grand 
and  picturesque  as  to  make  it  no  wonder  that  it  is  a  favorite 
study  for  artists,  as  one  of  the  most  spirited  of  Alpine 
pictures. 

We  passed  the  granite  pillar  that  marked  the  boundary 
line,  and  were  in  Italy ;  and  soon  after  at  the  mountain  cus- 
tom-house and  inn,  where  we  were  to  dine.  The  officials  are 
very  polite,  make  scarce  any  examination  whatever  of  the 
luggage  of  tourists ;  and  our  trunks  remained  undisturbed  on 
the  travelling  carriage  while  we  dined. 

Now  we  begin  to  ride  towards  the  valley,  and  soon  begin 
to  have  Italian  views  of  sunny  landscape  and  trellised  vines. 
We  reach  the  town  of  Domo  d'  Ossola,  and  our  driver  pro 


DOMO  d'  ossola.  435 

claims  his  coming  by  a,  feu  de  joie  with  the  whip.  The  town 
looks  like  a  collection  of  worn-out  scenery  thrown  together 
promiscuously  from  an  old  theatre.  ■  Old  shattered  arches 
cross  the  street;  half-ruined  houses  of  solid  masonry  have  the 
graceful  pillars  of  their  lower  stories  broken  and  cracked,  and 
ornamented  with  strings  of  onions  and  bunches  of  garlic,  sold 
in  the  shops  within ;  old  churches,  with  a  Gothic  arch  here 
and  there,  are  turned  into  a  warehouse  or  a  stable ;  tough  old 
mahogany-colored  women  are  seen  squatting  before  baskets 
of  peaches,  grapes,  and  figs  in  the  streets;  dark-skinned, 
black-eyed  girls,  with  the  flat  Italian  head-dresses  seen  in 
pictures ;  men,  dirty  and  lazy-looking,  with  huge  black  whis- 
kers, dark,  greasy  complexions,  in  red  and  blue  flannel  shirts, 
and  their  coats  thrown  over  their  shoulders  without  putting 
their  arms  in  the  sleeves,  the  coats  looking  as  though  they 
had  done  many  years'  duty  in  cleaning  oiled  machinery; 
curious,  houses  with  overhanging  upper  stories ;  striped  awn- 
ings project  outside  of  upper  windows ;  a  garlicky,  greasy, 
Italian  smell  pervades  the  narrower  streets,  from  which  we 
were  glad  to  emerge  into  the  more  open  square,  upon  which 
our  hotel — quite  a  spacious  affair — was  located. 

Our  carriage  rattled  beneath  the  arched  entrance,  and  into 
the  paved  court-yard,  where  were  three  or  four  other  similar 
equipages,  and  two  great  lumbering  diligences,  while  the  rat- 
tling peal  of  whip-crack  detonations  must  have  made  the 
landlord  think  that  a  grand  duke  and  suite,  at  least,  were 
arriving ;  for  he  tumbled  out,  with  half  a  dozen  waiters,  por- 
ters, and  helpers,  in  a  twinkling,  and  we  were  soon  bestowed 
in  cool  and  lofty  rooms,  with  many  bows  and  flourishes. 
This  old  hotel  was  a  curiosity,  many  of  its  rooms  opening 
upon  the  wooden  gallery  that  ran  all  around  and  above  the 
large  paved  court-yard,  into  which  diligences  arrived,  stopped 
for  the  night,  or  took  up  their  loads  and  departed,  and  post 
carriages  came  with  their  freights  to  and  from  the  Simplon. 
It  always  had  a  group  or  two  of  drivers  harnessing  up,  or 
wrangling  over  something  or  other,  or  travellers,  stowing 
themselves   away  in   the   diligence;    horses   stamping,   and 


436  AN   ITALIAN   INN. 

jingling  their  bells  and  harnesses ;  tourists,  hunting  up  lug- 
gage ;  or  couriers,  arranging  matters  for  the  travelling  par- 
ties they  were  cheating. 

The  fatigue  of  a  clay's  mountain  ride,  and  continued  sight- 
seeing, however,  made  us  sleep  soundly,  despite  any  of  these 
noises.  Of  all  fatigues,  the  tourist  ere  long  discovers  the 
fatigue  of  a  constant  succession  of  sight-seeing  to  be  the 
most  exhausting;  so  that  he  soon  comes  to  regard  a  tolerably 
good  bed  and  clean  room  as  among  the  most  agreeable  expe- 
riences of  his  journey.  In  the  morning  we  were  escorted  to 
the  carriage  with  many  bows  by  the  young  Italian  landlord, 
and  his  wife,  who,  with  one  of  those  splendid  oval  faces, 
beautiful  hair  descending  in  graceful  curve  to  and  away  from 
her  rich,  pure  brunette  complexion,  her  wonderful  great  lus- 
trous eyes,  a  head  such  as  one  seldom  sees,  except  in  a  paint- 
ing or  upon  a  cameo,  made  every  Englishman  or  American, 
when  he  first  saw  her,  start  with  surprise,  utter  something  to 
his  neighbor,  and  always  look  at  her  a  second  time,  evidently 
to  the  landlord's  gratification,  for  he  did  not  seem  to  have  a 
particle  of  the  traditional  Italian  jealousy  about  him  —  per- 
haps he  had  been  married  too  long. 

The  landlord  and  his  wife  said  something  very  pretty  by 
way  of  a  farewell,  no  doubt,  for  there  were  " grazias" 
"buonos"  " addios"  and  some  other  words,  which  I  remember 
having  heard  sung  by  singers  at  the  opera,  in  his  speech,  to 
which  our  driver  responded  with  a  royal  salute  of  whip- 
cracks,  and  we  dashed  out  of  the  court-yard  once  more  on 
our  journey. 

Our  road  now  lay  through  the  Italian  valley,  and  we  pass 
Vogogna,  Ornavasso,  and  other  towns,  and  things  begin  to 
wear  a  decidedly  Italian  aspect  —  the  grape  trellises,  with 
their  clustering  fruit ;  half-ruined  dwellings,  with  stucco  work 
peeling  off  them ;  the  general  greasy,  lazy,  half-brigandish 
look  of  the  men ;  and  the  partiality  for  high  colors  in  dress 
on  the  part  of  the  peasant  women.  Fresh  from  the  invigo- 
rating air  of  the  Alpine  passes,  we  felt  the  full  force  of  the 
Italian  sun.    Although  late  in  August,  the  weather  is  not 


LAKE   MAGGIORE.  437 

hotter,  apparently,  than  in  Boston;  but  when  the  sun  gets 
fairly  at  you  in  Italy,  it  seems  to  shine  clear  through,  and 
come  out  on  the  other  side.  Fifteen  minutes  in  its  blaze, 
without  the  protection  of  one  of  the  yellow,  green-lined 
umbrellas,  will  almost  wilt  the  vigor  out  of  anybody  but  a 
native.     It  goes  through  the  frame  like  a  Boston  east  wind. 

"With  this  sun  shining  from  a  blue,  cloudless,  Italian  sky,  it 
may  well  be  imagined  how  grateful  was  a  beautiful  portion 
of  the  country,  where  there  were  shady  olive  groves,  chest- 
nut and  fig  trees,  and  how  luscious  were  our  first  grapes 
and  fruit  purchased  of  the  peasant  women  at  the  road- 
side. We  passed,  as  we  approached  Lake  Maggiore,  a  fine 
granite  quarry,  which  seemed  to  have  been  laid  under  con- 
tribution to  furnish  posts  for  the  telegraphic  line.  Think  of 
that  luxury,  granite  telegraph  posts,  fifteen  feet  high,  of  clear, 
handsome  stone.  We  rode  past  them  for  miles  and  miles, 
and  sbon  came  in  sight  of  the  far-famed  Maggiore.  It  was 
beautiful  as  a  picture ;  and  as  our  carriage  drove  along  its 
shore,  the  cool  afternoon  breeze  came  fresh  and  grateful  to 
us,  after  our  heated  experiences.  Across  one  corner  of  the 
lake  in  a  ferry-boat,  a  short  drive  farther  by  the  lake  shore, 
and  we  whirled  up  to  the  splendid  Hotel  des  lies  Borromees 
directly  fronting  the  lake,  with  its  beautiful  flower-garden, 
with  walks  and  fountains.  We  found  the  interior  of  this 
hotel  delightfully  cool  and  clean,  the  staircases  and  floors  of 
stone,  and  the  bedsteads  of  iron  —  advantages  of  construc- 
tion in  Italy  the  utility  of  which  the  traveller  soon  learns  to 
appreciate. 

The  lake  is  as  charming  as  poets  have  sung  and  travellers 
told,  with  its  beautiful  island  and  lovely  blue  waters.  The 
Isola  Bella,  directly  opposite  my  windows,  with  its  splendid 
terraces,  one  above  the  other,  rising  a  hundred  feet  above  the 
lake,  and  rich  with  its  graceful  cypresses,  lemon  trees,  mag- 
nolias, orange  trees,  with  golden  fruit,  and  sparkling  foun- 
tains, statues,  and  pillars,  peeping  through  the  luxurious 
foliage,  is  charming  to  look  upon.  But  when  —  my  siesta 
over,  and  as  the  sun  was  low  in  the  west,  with  a  cool  air 


438  AN   ITALIAN   PICTURE. 

coming  from  the  water,  and  the  little  pleasure-boats,  with 
their  striped  awnings,  were  gliding  hither  and  thither — I 
saw  come  down  the  road  for  his  evening  walk  a  brown-robed, 
barefooted,  rope-girdled,  shaven  friar,  and,  from  the  opposite 
direction,  a  little  dark-skinned  Italian  lad,  with  pointed  hat, 
decorated  with  gay  ribbons,  rough  leggings  bound  to  his 
knee,  and  a  mandolin  in  his  hand,  it  seemed,  in  the  soft, 
dreamy,  hazy  atmosphere,  that  I  was  looking  upon  an  old  oil 
painting.  The  effect  was  heightened  when  the  boy  struck 
his  instrument,  and  began  to  sing  —  and  beautifully  he  did 
sing,  too.  I  have  heard  worse  singing  by  some  whose  names 
were  in  large  letters  on  the  opera  bills*.  The  friar  halted, 
and  leaned  on  a  gray  rock  at  the  road-side  to  listen,  while  he 
toyed  absently  with  his  rosary.  Two  or  three  peasant  girls, 
in  their  bright  costumes,  and  one  with  an  earthen  jar  on  her 
head,  paused  in  a  group,  and  a  barelegged  boatman,  in  a  red 
cap,  rested  two  tall  oars  upon  the  ground,  the  whole  forming 
so  picturesque  a  group  as  to  look  as  if  posed  for  a  picture. 

How  pleasant  is  an  evening  sail  on  this  lovely  lake !  how 
romantic  are  Isola  Bella  and  its  sister  islands !  how  like  a 
soft,  dreamy  picture  is  the  whole  scene !  and  how  all  the  sur- 
roundings seemed  exactly  fitted  to  harmonize  with  it!  —  a 
purely  Italian  scene,  the  picturesque  beauty  of  which  will 
long  linger  in  the  memory. 

We  had  a  delightful  sail  from  Stressa,  along  the  shores  of 
Maggiore  to  Sesto  Calende,  heard  the  sweet  sound  of  con- 
vent bells  come  musically  across  its  glassy  tide,  passed  Arona, 
behind  which  we  could  see  the  colossal  bronze  statue  of  San 
Carlo  Borromeo,  sixty-six  feet  high,  placed  upon  a  pedestal 
forty  feet  in  height,  looking  like  an  immense  giant,  with  its 
hand  stretched  out  towards  the  lake  from  the  hill  on  which 
it  stands.  From  Sesto  Calende  the  railway  train  conveyed 
us  to  Milan,  where  we  were  landed  in  a  magnificent  railway 
station,  the  waiting  rooms  large  and  lofty,  the  ceilings  ele- 
gantly frescoed,  and  the  walls  painted  with  beautifully 
executed  allegorical  pictures  and  Italian  landscapes,  giving 
one  the  idea  that  he  had  arrived  in  a  country  where  artistic 


MILAN.  439 

jfuintmg  was  a  drug  in  the  market,  so  lavishly  was  it  used  in 
this  manner  in  the  railway  stations. 

Our  rooms  at  the  Hotel  Cavour  look  out  on  a  handsome 
square  and  the  public  gardens.  In  the  square  stands  a  statue 
of  Cavour,  upon  a  pedestal  placed  at  the  top  of  a  set  of 
granite  steps.  Upon  these  steps,  seated  in  the  most  natural 
position,  is  a  bronze  figure  of  the  genius  of  fame  or  history 
(a  female  figure)  represented  in  the  act  of  inscribing  Cavour  s 
name  with  her  pen  upon  the  bronze  pedestal.  And  so  nat- 
ural is  this  representation,  that  strangers  who  see  the  group 
in  the  evening  for  the  first  time,  often  fancy  that  some  unau- 
thorized person  has  got  into  the  enclosure,  and  is  defacing 
the  statue. 

The  first  sight  to  be  seen  in  Milan  is  the  cathedral ;  and 
before  this  magnificent  architectural  wonder,  all  cathedrals  I 
have  yet  looked  upon  seem  to  sink  into  insignificance. 

A  forest  of  white  marble  pinnacles,  a  wilderness  of  elegant 
statues,  an  interminable  maze,  and  never-ending  mass  of 
bewildering  tracery,  greets  the  beholder,  who  finds  himself 
gaping  at  it  in  astonishment,  and  wondering  where  he  will 
begin  to  look  it  over,  or  if  it  will  be  possible  for  him  to  see  it 
all.  The  innumerable  graceful  pinnacles,  surmounted  by 
statues,  the  immense  amount  of  luxurious  carving  prodigally 
displayed  on  every  part  of  the  exterior,  strike  the  visitor 
with  amazement.  Its  architecture  is  Gothic,  and  the  form 
that  of  a  Latin  cross ;  and  to  give  an  idea  of  its  size,  I  copy 
the  following  authentic  figures  of  its  dimensions :  "  The 
extreme  length  is  four  hundred  and  eighty-six  feet,  and  the 
breadth  two  hundred  and  fifty-two  feet ;  the  length  of  the 
transept  two  hundred  and  eighty-eight  feet,  and  the  height 
inside,  from  pavement  to  roof,  one  hundred  and  fifty-three 
feet ;  height  from  pavement  to  top  of  the  spire,  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty-five  feet." 

Aller  taking  a  walk  around  the  exterior  of  this  wonderful 
structure,  and  gazing  upon  the  architectural  beauties  of  the 
great  white  marble  mountain,  we  prepared  to  ascend  to  the 
roof  before  visiting  the  interior. 


440  MILAN    CATHEDEAL. 

This  ascent  is  made  by  a  broad  white  marble  staircase  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty-eight  steps,  the  end  of  which  being 
reached,  the  visitor  finds  himself  amid  an  endless  variety  pi* 
beautiful  pinnacles,  flying  buttresses,  statues,  carvings,  and 
tracery.  Here  are  regular  walks  laid  out,  terminating  in  or 
passing  handsome  squares,  in  the  centre  of  which  are  life-size 
statues  by  Canova,  Michael  Angelo,  and  other  great  sculptors. 
You  come  to  points  commanding  extensive  views  of  the 
elegant  flying  buttresses,  which  are  beautifully  WTOught,  and 
present  a  vista  of  hundreds  of  feet  of  white  marble  tracery 
as  elegant,  elaborate,  and  bewildering  as  the  tree  frost-work 
of  a  New  England  winter. 

Here  is  a  place  called  the  "  Garden,"  where  you  are  sur- 
rounded by  pinnacles,  richly  ornamented  Gothic  arches,  flying 
buttresses,  with  representations  of  leaves,  flowers,  pome- 
granate heads,  tracery,  statuary,  and  ornaments  in  such  prod- 
igality as  to  fairly  excite  exclamation  at  the  profuseness  dis- 
played. In  every  angle  of  the  building  the  eye  meets  new 
and  surprising  beauties,  magnificent  galleries,  graceful  arcs, 
and  carved  parapets,  pointed,  needle-like  pinnacles,  Gothic 
arches,  and  clustered  pillars. 

We  come  to  where  the  carvers  and  stone-cutters  are  at 
work.  They  have  a  regular  stone-cutters'  yard  up  here  on 
the  roof,  Avith  sheds  for  the  workmen  and  stone-carvers,  and 
their  progress  is  marked  on  the  building  by  the  fresher  hue 
of  the  work.  These  old  cathedrals  are  never  finished ;  their 
original  plans  are  lost,  and  there  always  seems  to  be  some 
great  portion  of  the  work  that  is  yet  to  be  carried  out.  We 
should  have  got  lost  in  the  maze  of  streets,  squares,  and  pas- 
sages upon  the  roof,  without  a  guide. 

A  total  ascent  of  five  hundred  and  twelve  steps  carries  the 
visitor  to  the  platform  of  the  great  cupola,  from  which  a  fine 
view  of  the  city  is  obtained,  the  plains  surrounding  it  bounded 
by  the  girdle  of  distant,  snow-capped  mountains.  Directly 
beneath  can  be  seen  the  cruciform  shape  of  the  great  cathe- 
dral ;  and  looking  down,  we  find  that  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
six  spires  and  pinnacles  rise  from  the  roof,  and  that  clustered 


A   VAST    INTERIOR.  441 

on  and  about  them  is  a  population  of  over  thirty-five  hundred 
statues.  Nearly  a  hundred  are  said  to  be  added  each  year 
by  the  workmen.  Amid  this  bewildering  scene  of  architec- 
tural wonders,  it  is  not  surprising  that  two  hours  passed  ere 
we  thought  of  descending;  and  even  then  we  left  no  small 
portion  of  this  aerial  garden,  this  marble  forest  of  enchant- 
ment, with  but  the  briefest  glance. 

But  if  the  roof  was  so  beautiful,  what  must  be  the  appear- 
ance of  the  interior  of  this  great  temple  ^* 

It  Avas  grand  beyond  description ;  the  great  nave  over  four 
hundred  feet  in  length,  the  four  aisles  with  their  vistas  of 
nearly  the  same  length  of  clustered  pillars  —  four  complete 
ranges  of  them,  fifty-two  in  all  —  supporting  the  magnificent 
vaulted  arch  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  our  heads. 
The  vastness  of  the  space  as  you  stand  in  it  beside  one  of  the 
great  Gothic  pillars,  the  base  of  which,  even,  towers  up  nearly 
as  high  as  your  head  —  the  very  vastness  of  the  interior 
causes  you  to  feel  like  a  fly  under  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's. 
An  idea  of  the  size  of  this  cathedral  may  be  had  from  the 
fact,  that  while  workmen  with  ladder,  hammer,  and  tools 
were  putting  up  a  painting  upon  the  walls  at  one  end  of  the 
church,  the  priests  were  conducting  a  service  with  sixty  or 
seventy  worshippers  at  the  other,  undisturbed  by  the  noise 
of  hammer  or  metal  tool,  the  blows  of  which,  even  if  listened 
for,  could  scarce  be  heard  beyond  a  faint  click. 

A  good  opera-glass  is  a  necessity  in  these  great  cathedrals, 
a  good  guide-book  is  another ;  and  I  find  the  glass  swung  by 
its  strap  beneath  one  arm,  and  the  tourist's  satchel  beneath 
the  other,  positive  conveniences  abroad,  however  snobbish 
they  may  appear  at  home. 

There  are  five  great  doorways  to  the  church,  and  the 
visitor's  attention  is  always  called  by  the  guide  to  the  two 
gigantic  pillars  near  the  largest  door.  These  are  single 
columns  of  polished  red  granite,  thirty-five  feet  high  and 
four  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base ;  they  support  a  sort  of  bal- 
cony, upon  which  stand  the  colossal  figures  of  two  saints. 
All  along  the  sides  of  the  cathedral  are  cliapels,  elegant  mar- 


442  A   WONDERFUL    STATUE. 

ble  altars  and  allar  tombs,  interspersed  with  statues  and  pic- 
tures. The  capitals  of  many  of  the  great  columns  have  finely 
carved  statues  grouped  about  them ;  some  have  eight,  and 
others  more.  The  ceiling  of  the  vaulted  roof,  which,  from 
the  pavement,  appears  to  be  sculptured  stone-work,  is  only 
a  clever  imitation  in  painting ;  but  the  floor  of  the  cathedral 
is  laid  out  in  mosiac  of  different  colored  marbles. 

With  what  delight  we  wandered  about  this  glorious  inte- 
rior !  There  was  the  great  window,  with  its  colored  glass,  rep- 
resenting the  Virgin  Mary's  assumption,  executed  by  Bertini. 
Here  were  the  monument  raised  by  Pius  IV.  to  his  brothers, 
cut  from  fine  Carrara  marble,  except  the  statues,  after  Michael 
Angelo's  designs ;  the  pulpits,  that  are  partly  of  bronze  work, 
and  elegantly  ornamented  with  bass-reliefs  which  encircle 
two  of  the  great  pillars,  and  are  themselves  held  up  by  huge 
caryatides;  numerous  monuments,  among  them  the  bright- 
red  marble  tomb  of  Ottone  Visconti,  who  left  his  property  to 
the  Knisrhts  of  St.  John,  who  erected  this  monument ;  the 
beautiful  carved  stalls  of  the  choir,  the  high  altar  and  mag- 
nificent Gothic  windows  behind  it. 

In  the  south  transept  is  the  celebrated  statue  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew, who  was  flayed  alive,  and  who  is  represented  as 
having  undergone  that  operation  and  taking  a  walk,  with  his 
own  skin  thrown  carelessly  over  one  arm,  after  the  manner 
of  an  overcoat  which  the  weather  has  rendered  oppressive 
to  the  wearer.  But  this  statue  can  hardly  fail  to  chain  the 
spectator  some  moments  to  the  spot,  on  account  of  the  hid- 
eous accuracy  with  which  every  artery,  muscle,  and  tendon 
appear  to  be  represented.  I  had  never  thought  before  how 
a  man  might  look  when  stripped  of  that  excellent  fitting  gar- 
ment, the  cutis  vera ;  but  this  statue  gave  me  as  correct  an 
idea  of  it  as  I  ever  wish  to  obtain.  It  is  said  to  have  been 
executed  by  the  great  sculptor  Phidias,  and  to  be  wonderful- 
ly correct  in  anatomical  detail.  The  latter  fact  can  hardly 
be  doubted  by  any  who  look  upon  the  marvellous  skill  which 
appears  to  have  been  exhausted  upon  every  part  of  it.  Shock- 
ing as  it  appeared,  I  found  myself  drawn,  again  and  again,  to 
to  look  upon  it ;  such  is  its  effect  as  a  wondrous  work  of  art. 


DEATH    AND    DROSS.  443 

Now  the  guide  leads  to  a  crypt  below  the  pavement.  We 
are  to  visit  the  chapel,  where  rests  the  good  St.  Charles  Bor- 
romeo,  who  died  nearly  three  centuries  ago.  We  go  down 
nine  or  ten  steps,  pass  through  a  passage  lined  with  the  rich- 
est marbles,  a  portal  adorned  with  splendid  columns,  with 
their  capitals  and  bases  richly  gilt,  and  stand  in  the  sepulchral 
chapel  of  the  saint.  It  is  a  small  octagonal  apartment,  light- 
ed by  an  opening  from  above,  which  is  surrounded  by  a  rail, 
so  that  the  faithful  may  look  down  upon  the  sarcojmagus 
below.  The  walls  of  this  apartment  are  formed  of  eight  mas- 
sive silver  bass-reliefs,  representing  remarkable  events  in  the 
saint's  life.  Then  in  the  angles  are  eight  caryatides  of  mas- 
sive silver,  representing  his  virtues.  The  sarcophagus,  which 
rests  upon  the  altar,  is  a  large  bronze  box  mounted  with  sil- 
ver. A  douceur  of  five  francs  to  the  attendant  priest,  and  he 
reverently  crosses  himself,  and,  bending  at  a  crank,  causes  the 
bronze  covers  of  the  shrine  to  fold  away,  revealing  to  our 
view  the  dead  body  of  the  saint,  in  a  splendid  transparent 
coffin  of  pure  rock  crystal,  bound  with  silver,  and  ornament- 
ed also  with  small  silver  statues,  bearing  the  cipher  of  the 
royal  donor,  Philip  IV.  of  Spain. 

There  lay  the  good  bishop,  who  had  preached  humility  all 
his  life,  arrayed  in  his  episcopal  garb,  which  was  one  blaze  of 
precious  stones.  Diamonds  of  the  purest  water  flashed  back 
their  colored  light  to  the  glare  of  the  altar  candles ;  rubies, 
like  drops  of  blood,  glowed  in  fiery  splendor,  and  emeralds 
shone  green  as  sea-waves  in  the  sunlight.  The  saint  held 
in  his  left  hand  a  golden  pastoral  staff,  fairly  crusted  with 
precious  stones.  A  splendid  cross  of  emeralds  and  diamonds 
is  suspended  above  him  within  the  shrine ;  it  is  the  gift  of 
Maria  Theresa,  and  about  the  head  is  a  magnificent  golden 
crown,  rich  with  the  workmanship  of  that  wonderful  artificer, 
Benvenuto  Cellini,  the  gift  of  the  Elector  of  Bavaria.  But 
there,  amid  all  these  flashing  jewels,  that  which  the  rich  habili- 
ments failed  to  conceal,  was  the  grinning  skull,  covered  with 
the  shrivelled  skin  black  with  age,  the  sunken  eye-sockets, 
and  all  bearing  the  dread  signet-stamp  of  Death ;  making  it 


444  HOARDS  OF  THE  CHURCH. 

seem  a  hideous  mockery  to  trick  out  these  crumbling  remains 
with  senseless  trappings,  now  so  useless  to  the  once  mortal 
habitation  of  an  immortal  soul.  "We  leave  the  saint  to  sleep 
in  his  costly  mausoleum,  his  narrow,  eight-sided  chamber, 
and  its  riches,  representing  one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand 
pounds  sterling,  and  follow  our  guide  to  view  more  of  the 
wealth  of  the  church. 

Here  we  are  in  the  sacristy,  and  the  custodian  shows  us 
two  huge  statues  of  St.  Charles  and  St.  Ambrose  of  solid 
silver,  and  their  sacerdotal  robes  thickly  studded  with  jewels ; 
magnificent  silver  busts,  life-size,  of  other  bishops ;  elegant 
gold  candelabra ;  goblets  and  altar  furniture  of  rare  and  ex- 
quisite workmanship ;  silver  lamps,  censers,  chalices,  &c,  of 
those  rare,  delicate,  and  beautiful  old  patterns  that  were  a 
charm  to  look  upon ;  missals  studded  with  precious  stones ; 
rich  embroideries,  rare  altar-pieces,  and  one  solid  ornamental 
piece  of  silver-work,  weighing  over  one  hundred  pounds.  All 
these  riches  locked  up,  useless  here,  save  as  a  sight  to  the 
wonder-seeking  tourist ;  while  poor,  ragged  worshb^pers  of  the 
church  of  Rome  are  prostrating  themselves  without,  before 
the  great  altar,  from  which  they  rise  and  waylay  him  as  he 
passes  out,  to  beseech  him  —  the  heretic  —  for  a  few  coppers, 
for  the  love  of  God,  to  keep  them  from  starvation.  I  can 
well  imagine  what  rich  plunder  old  Cromwell's  bluff  Round- 
heads must  have  found  in  the  Roman  Catholic  cathedrals  of 
England,  although  I  have  more  than  once  mentally  anathe- 
matized their  vandalism,  which  was  shown  in  defacing  and 
destroying  some  of  the  most  beautiful  specimens  of  art  of  the 
middle  ages. 

.  The  old  Church  of  St.  Ambrosio  is  an  interesting  edifice 
to  visit,  with  its  curious  relics,  tombs,  altars,  and  inscriptions. 
The  principal  altar  here  is  remarkable  for  its  richness;  its 
sides  are  completely  enclosed  in  a  strong  iron-bound  and 
padlocked  sheathing,  which,  however,  the  silver  key  unlocked, 
and  we  found  the  front  to  be  sheathed  in  solid  gold,  elegantly 
enamelled  and  ornamented,  the  back  and  sides  being  of  solid 
silver;  all  about  the  border,  corners,  and  edges  were  set  every 


THE   LA    SCALA    THEATRE.  445 

species  of  precious  stones,  cameos,  and  rich  jewels.  The 
rubies,  amethysts,  topazes,  &c,  were  in  the  rough,  uncut ;  but 
the  goldsmith's  work,  carving  and  chasing,  was  elaborate,  and 
the  dirty  friar  who  exhibited  the  sight,  with  small  candles, 
about  the  size  of  pen-holders,  stuck  between  his  fingers,  took 
much  pride  in  pointing  out  the  beauties  of  the  work,  and  hold- 
ing his  little  candles  so  that  their  light  might  be  the  more 
effectual  to  display  them.  The  back  was  all  covered  with 
representations  of  the  principal  events  in  the  life  of  St.  Am- 
brose, separated  from  each  other  by  enamelled  borders. 

We  next  went  to  the  refectory  of  the  Church  of  Santa 
Maria  delle  Grazie,  and  saw  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  celebrated 
painting  of  the  Last  Supper,  the  picture  that  we  are  all  famil- 
iar with  from  childhood,  from  having  seen  it  in  Bibles,  story- 
books, and  engravings.  In  fact,  it  is  the  picture  of  the  Last 
Supper  always  referred  to  when  the  representation  is  spoken 
of.  I  could  not  go  into  raptures  over  this  half-defaced  fresco, 
which  has  had  a  door  cut  through  one  portion  of  it,  has  sus- 
tained the  damage  incidental  to  the  refectory,  being  used  as  a 
cavalry  stable,  and  has  twice  been  nearly  all  painted  over  by 
bad  artists  since  the  great  painter  left  it ;  and  he,  in  his  prep- 
aration of  the  wall  for  the  painting,  used  a  process  which 
proved  a  failure,  causing  it  to  fade  and  flake  off!  Although 
this  is  the  great  original,  from  which  so  many  copies  are  taken, 
—  and  it  is  something  to  have  seen  the  original, — we  think  we 
have  seen  more  than  one  copy  far  more  striking  and  more 
beautiful  in  its  finish. 

A  ramble  through  Victor  Emmanuel's  palace  gave  us  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  some  fine  pictures,  the  great  state  ball- 
room, elegantly-frescoed  ceilings,  and  the  rich  furniture  and 
tapestry,  that  one  ere  long  begins  to  find  are  in  some  degree, 
when  no  historical  association  is  connected  with  them,  so 
much  alike  in  all  palaces.  The  celebrated  La  Scala  Theatre 
was  closed  for  the  season  during  our  visit  to  Milan ;  but  the 
custodians  have  an  eye  to  business.  They  keep  the  lower 
row  of  gas-lights  burning,  turned  low,  and  for  a  consideration 
turn  on  the  gas,  and  light  up  the  vast  interior  sufficiently  for 
visitors  to  get  something  of  an  idea  of  it. 


446  ART    TREASURES. 

Notwithstanding  its  vast  size,  the  excellence  of  its  internal 
arrangements  for  seeing  and  hearing  is  remarkable.  Stand- 
ing upon  the  stage,  we  delivered  a  Shakespearian  extract  to 
an  extremely  select  but  discriminating  audience,  whose  ap- 
j)lause  was  liberally,  and,  need  we  add,  deservedly  bestowed. 
I  know  not  how  it  may  be  when  the  house  is  filled  with  an 
audience,  but  it  appeared  to  us  that  its  acoustic  properties 
were  remarkable,  for  a  "  stage  whisper "  could  be  distinctly 
heard  at  the  extreme  rear  of  the  centre  of  the  first  row  of 
boxes,  while  the  echo  of  the  voice  seemed  to  return  to  the 
speaker  on  the  stage,  as  from  a  sounding-board  above  his 
head,  with  marvellous  distinctness.  This  house  will  hold  .an 
audience  of  thirty-six  hundred  persons.  The  distance  from 
the  centre  box  to  the  curtain  is  ninety-six  feet ;  width  of  the 
stage,  fifty-four  feet ;  and  depth  of  the  stage  behind  the  cur- 
tain, one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  —  room  enough  for  the  most 
ambitious  scenic  display.  The  form  of  the  house  is  the  usual 
semicircle,  there  being  forty-one  boxes  in  each  row.  Many  of 
those  in  the  first  row  have  small  withdrawing-rooms.  One  — 
the  Duke  Somebody's  —  has  a  supper  room,  in  which  his  high- 
ness and  friends  partake  of  a  petit  souper  between  the  acts, 
there  being  cooking  conveniences  for  the  preparation  of  the 
same  below. 

The  brevity  of  our  visit  to  Milan  causes  the  day  that  was 
devoted  to  the  wonderful  library,  the  Biblioteca  Ambrosiana, 
with  its  grand  halls,  its  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  vol- 
umes, and  eight  thousand  manuscripts,  rare  autographic  and 
literary  treasures,  and  the  great  halls  of  paintings,  where  the 
works  of  Guido,  Paul  Veronese,  Raphael,  Da  Vinci,  and  Ru- 
bens adorn  the  walls,  to  seem  like  a  wondrous  dream ;  and 
our  general  rule  being  to  see  thoroughly  what  we  saw,  we 
regretted  that  we  had  even  attempted  these  two  interesting 
galleries  —  places  which,  to  any  one  having  any  taste  what- 
ever for  art  or  literature,  it  is  little  less  than  an  aggravation 
to  be  hurried  through. 

By  rail  from  Milan  we  came  to  a  place  about  a  mile  from 
Como,  where  omnibuses  conveyed  us  through  that  hot,  vile- 


LAKE    COMO.  4-17 

smelling,  filthy  Italian  town  to  the  pier  on  the  lake,  where  the 
steamer  was  waiting  our  arrival,  and  which  we  were  right 
glad  to  have  paddle  out  into  the  lake  from  the  vile  odors  that 
surrounded  us.  But  once  out  upon  the  blue  waters,  and  free 
from  the  offence  to  our  nostrils,  how  charming  was  the  scene ! 
The  dirty  city  that  we  had  left  was  picturesque  on  the  undu- 
lating shore,  with  its  old  tower,  spires,  and  quaint  houses. 
As  we  sailed  along,  beautiful  villas  were  seen  on  the  shore, 
their  fronts  with  marble  pillars,  their  gardens  with  terraces 
rich  in  beautiful  flowers,  and  adorned  with  statues,  vases,  and 
fountains ;  marble  steps,  with  huge  carved  balusters,  ran 
down  to  the  very  water's  edge,  where  awning-covered  pleas- 
ure-boats were  in  waiting — just  such  scenes  as  you  see  on 
the  act-drop  at  the  theatre,  and  believe  to  be  mere  flights  of 
artistic  fancy,  but  which  noAV  are  found  to  exist  in  reality." 

At  a  point  where  Lake  Como  divides  into  two  arms,  one 
extending  to  Como  and  the  other  to  Lecco,  we  passed  Bellag- 
gio,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  spots  ever  seen.  It  is  on  a  high 
promontory  at  this  point,  commanding  extensive  views  of  the 
lake  and  surrounding  country.  The  promontory  is  covered 
with  the  elegant  villas  of  wealthy  people. 

There  is  something  luxurious  and  charming  in  a  sail  upon 
this  lovely  lake,  with  the  beautiful  Adllas  upon  its  shores,  the 
vine-clad  hills,  with  the  broad-hatted  peasant  women  seen 
among  the  grape-vines,  white  turreted  churches,  brown,  dis- 
tant convents,  from  which  the  faint  music  of  the  bell  came 
softened  over  the  water,  the  long  reaches  of  beautiful  land- 
scape view  between  the  hills,  the  soft,  blue  sky,  and  the  de- 
licious, dreamy  atmosphere.  A  charming  lake  is  Como,  but 
with  many  objects,  "'tis  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the 


view." 


A  boat  put  off  from  a  romantic  little  cove  for  the  steamer, 
which  paused  for  its  arrival.  Its  occupants  were  a  stalwart 
rower,  in  blue  shirt,  red  cap,  and  black  slashed  breeches,  a 
sort  of  Massaniello-looking  fellow,  who  bent  to  the  oars  with 
a  will,  and  a  friar,  with  shaven  crown  and  brown  cowl,  with 
cross  and  rosary  at  his  waist.     Soon  after  we  saw  the  holy 


448  ITALIAN   MONKS. 

man  on  board ;  and  certainly  lie  did  not  believe  cleanliness 
was  next  to  godliness,  for  all  that  was  visible  of  his  person 
was  filthy,  and  evidently  not  on  frequent  visiting  acquaintance 
with  soap  and  water,  while  the  vile  odor  of  garlic  formed  a 
halo  of  nearly  three  feet  in  circumference  about  his  person  — 
an  odor  of  sanctity  requiring  the  possession  of  a  stomach  not 
easily  disturbed  to  enable  one  to  endure  it.  I  once  saw  one 
of  these  friars  at  a  railway  station,  whose  curious  blending  of 
the  mediaeval  and  modern  together  in  his  costume  and  occupa- 
tion struck  me  as  so  irresistibly  comical  that  I  could  not  re- 
sist a  laugh,  much  to  his  amazement.  But  fancy  seeing  a 
friar,  or  monk,  in  the  sandals,  brown  robe,  and  corded  waist, 
just  such  as  you  have  seen  in  engravings,  and  whom  you 
naturally  associate  with  Gothic  cathedrals,  cloistered  convents, 
as  bearing  a  crosier,  or  engaged  in  some  ecclesiastical  occupa- 
tion —  fancy  seeing  a  monk  in  this  well-known  costume,  near 
a  railway  station,  his  head  surmounted  with  a  modern  straw 
hat,  a  sort  of  market-basket  in  his  hand,  and  smoking  a  cig- 
arette with  oreat  nonchalance  as  he  watched  the  train ! 

We  landed  at  Colico,  at  the  end  of  the  lake  —  a  filthy  place, 
where  dirt  was  trumps,  and  garlic  and  grease  were  trium- 
phant. We  attempted  a  meal  at  the  hotel  while  the  diligence 
was  getting  ready;  but  on  coming  to  the  board,  notwith- 
standing it  was  with  sharpened  appetites,  the  dirt  and  odor 
were  too  much  for  us,  and  we  retreated  in  good  order,  at  the 
expense  of  five  francs  for  the  landlord's  trouble  and  unsuc- 
cessful attempt.  A  diligence  ride  of  eighteen  miles  brought 
us  to  Chiavenna  at  eight  o'clock  P.  M.  Here  the  hotel  was 
tolerable,  the  landlord  and  head  waiter  spoke  English,  and, 
late  as  it  was,  we  ordered  dinner,  for  we  were  famished ;  and  a 
very  delectable  one  we  had,  and  comfortable  rooms  for  the 
night.  Chiavenna  is  a  dull  old  place,  with  the  ruins  of  the 
former  residences  and  strongholds  of  the  old  dukes  of  Milan 
scattered  about  it.  One  old  shattered  castle  was  directly  op- 
posite our  hotel. 

We  now  prepared  for  a  journey  from  here  over  another 
Alpine  pass,  the  Spliigen.     This  pass  was  constructed  by  the 


MADESIMO   WATEEFALL.  449 

Austrians,  in  1821,  in  order  to  preserve  for  themselves  a  good 
passage  over  to  Lombardy.  We  engaged  our  post  carriage  as 
usual,  with  a  fair  icritten  contract  with  the  driver,  —  necessary 
■when  agreeing  with  an  Italian,  to  prevent  mistakes,  —  and 
preliminaries  being  settled,  started  off  with  the  usual  rattle 
of  whip-cracks,  rode  through  pleasant  scenery  of  vineyards, 
mountain  slopes,  and  chestnut  trees,  and  soon  began  to  wind 
on  our  way  upwards.  Passing  the  custom-house  in  the  little 
village  of  Campo  Dolcino,  thirty-three  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea,  we  are  again  upon  the  beautifully  engineered 
road  of  an  Alpine  pass,  and  at  one  point  the  zigzags  were  so 
sharp  and  frequent  that  the  granite  jtosts  protecting  the  edge 
of  the  road  presented  the  appearance  of  a  straight  row  di- 
rectly in  front  of  us,  rising  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees, 
although  the  real  ascent  by  the  numerous  windings  is  com- 
paratively easy  and  apparently  slight. 

As  we  went  winding  up,  back  and  forth,  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  beautiful  Madesimo  Waterfall,  seen  from  various  angles 
of  the  road  pouring  down  from  far  above  us  to  the  valley  be- 
low. Each  turn  gave  us  a  different  view.  It  was  a  succes- 
sion of  pictures  of  valley  and  cascade,  until  we  finally  passed 
through  a  covered  gallery,  and  our  road  led  us  past  the  cliff 
over  which  the  level  stream  took  its  leap  for  its  downward 
career. 

Leaving  the  carriage,  we  walked  to  a  small  projecting  table 
rock  directly  overhanging  the  ravine,  —  a  portion  of  the  rock 
over  which  the  stream  falls,  —  where,  leaning  over  the  iron 
railing,  —  grasped,  we  confess,  with  a  firm  clutch, — Ave  looked 
down  to  the  frothy  foam  of  the  waterfall,  seven  hundred  feet 
below.  It  was  a  fine  point  of  view  —  an  exciting  position  to 
feel  one's  self  so  near  a  terribly  dangerous  place,  and  yet  be 
safe,  to  defy  danger,  enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  cascade,  and 
measure  Avith  the  eye  the  great  distance  of  its  leap. 

After  leaving  here,  we  begin  to  enter  a  wild,  and  in  winter 

a  dangerous,  portion  of  the  pass.     This  is  the  Cardinell  Gorge. 

Not  only  are  the  zigzags  sharp  and  frequent,  but  we  come  to 

great  covered  galleries,  made  of  solid  masonry,  with  sloping 

29 


450  THE    SPLUGEN   PASS. 

roofs,  to  cause  avalanches,  that  are  constantly  precipitated 
from  above,  to  slide  off,  and  thus  protect  travellers  and  the 
road  itself.  The  galleries  are  wonderful  pieces  of  workman- 
ship. One  of  them  is  six  hundred  and  fifty,  another  seven 
hundred,  and  a  third  fifteen  hundred  and  thirty  feet  in  length. 
They  are  lighted  by  openings  at  the  sides.  We  have  fine 
views  of  the  lofty  mountains  all  around,  and  the  deep  gorges 
torn  by  countless  avalanches ;  and  now  we  reach  one  of  the 
houses  of  refuge.  We  stand  fifty-eight  hundred  and  sixty 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  The  air  is  cold,  and  over- 
coats are  comfortable.  On  we  go,  and  at  length  shiver  in  the 
glacier's  breath  at  the  boundary  line  between  Switzerland  and 
Italy  —  the  summit  of  the  pass  six  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  eighty  feet  above  the  sea. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

Once  more  we  are  in  sight  of  the  familiar  snow-clads  and 
ice-fields ;  the  glaciers  are  in  sight  in  every  direction ;  there 
are  the  mountain  peaks,  the  names  all  terminating  with 
"horn."  Our  old  friend,  the  Schneehom,  shoots  his  peak 
:ten  thousand  feet  into  the  air,  and  the  Surettahorn  lifts  its 
mass  of  ice  nine  thousand  three  hundred  feet  high  into  the 
clear  sunlight,  and  Ave  are  again  amid  the  grand  Alpine 
scenery  I  have  so  often  described.  Now  we  begin  our  de- 
scent, zigzag,  as  usual,  through  wild  mountain  scenery,  till  at 
last  we  whirl  through  a  long  gallery,  and,  wTith  a  salute  of 
whip-snappings,  enter  the  village  of  Splugen ;  through  this, 
and  out  again  into  another  grand  Alpine  landscape,  taking  in 
a  view  of  the  peaks  of  the  Zapporthorn  and  Einshorn,  each 
over  nine  thousand  feet  high,  and  away  off  in  the  distance, 
the  chalets  of  a  Swiss  village,  perched  in  among  the  moun- 
tains. Down  we  go,  at  full  trot,  through  the  beautiful  Roffla 
Ravine,  picturesque  in  the  twilight,  with  its  rocky  walls, 


TnE    VIA    MALA.  451 

and  its  rattling  cascades  of  the  River  Rhine  dashing  over  the 
rocky  bed.  There  is  one  place  where  there  is  barely  room 
for  the  Rhine  and  the  road  to  pass  through  the  rocky  gate- 
way of  the  pass.  The  scenery  is  wild,  but  at  the  same  time 
there  were  trees,  with  luxuriant  foliage,  that  were  pleasant  to 
the  eye ;  beautiful  larches,  black  spruces,  and  other  trees  of 
that  kind,  softened  the  rough  aspect  of  the  mountains. 

We  were  not  sorry  to  draw  rein  at  dusk  at  the  village  of 
Andeer,  where  Ave  had  only  a  tolerable  lodging,  and  a  very 
bad  breakfast ;  after  which  we  were  once  more  on  the  road, 
and  soon  reached  the  valley  of  six  streams,  which  glide  down 
the  mountains,  on  either  side,  to  the  green  valley  below,  with 
its  pretty  farm-houses  and  green  pastures.  Soon  after  leaving 
this,  we  enter  upon  the  celebrated  Via  Mala. 

This  narrow  pass  seems  like  a  great  cleft,  cut  by  a  giant's 
knife,  into  a  huge  loaf;  the  pathway  through  it,  until  1822, 
was  only  four  feet  wide.  The  carriage-road  and  the  river 
now  seem  as  if  squeezed  into  the  gap,  that  might  at  any 
moment  snap  together  and  crush  them.  Huge  perpendic- 
ular rocky  walls  rise  to  the  height  of  fifteen  hundred  feet 
on  either  side;  the  River  Rhine  runs  through  the  gorge 
three  hundred  feet  below  the  road,  which  crosses  and  re- 
crosses  it  three  or  four  times  by  means  of  bridges ;  the  great 
walls  of  rock,  in  some  places,  seem  almost  to  meet  above,  and 
shut  out  the  full  light  of  day,  the  space  is  so  narrow ;  for  the 
river  forces  its  way  through  a  cleft,  only  fifteen  feet  wide 
between  the  rock,  and  at  one  place  there  is  a  gallery,  two 
hundred  feet  long,  cut  through  the  solid  rock.  Although  the 
river  is  three  hundred  feet  below  the  road,  yet  the  cleft  be- 
tween the  mountain  is  so  narrow  that  spring  freshets  will 
raise  it  a  hundred  feet  or  more.  A  woman,  who,  at  the  highest 
bridge,  drops  stones  down  to  the  tide  below,  for  tourists  to 
count  ten  before  they  strike  the  water,  points  out  a  ma:k 
upon  one  of  the  bridges,  noting  a  remarkable  rise  of  the  river 
in  1834,  when  it  came  up  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet, 
to  the  arch  of  this  bridge,  and  then  solicits  a  few  sous  for  hei 
services. 


452  WONDERS    OF    THE   PASS. 

This  wild,  dark,  and  gloomy  gorge,  with  its  huge  over 
hanging  curtains  of  solid  rock,  the  pathway  clinging  to  its 
sides,  the  roaring  torrent  under  foot,  arched  bridges  crossing 
its  chasms,  and  tunnels  piercing  its  granite  barricades,  is  liter- 
ally a  pathway  wrenched  through  the  mountain's  everlasting 
wall.  It  cannot  fail  to  make  a  profound  impression  by  its 
gloomy  grandeur  and  wild  beauty,  especially  at  one  point, 
where  the  eye  can  sweep  away  through  the  gorge,  as  if  look- 
ing through  a  vast  rocky  tube,  and  rest  upon  green,  sunny 
slopes,  and  pleasant,  smiling  scenery  beyond. 

We  reach  the  pleasant  village  of  Thusis,  where  the  river 
Nolla  flows  into  the  Rhine ;  and  there  is,  from  the  bridge  that 
spans  it,  a  beautiful  view  of  the  valley  in  a  ring  of  mountains 
and  an  old  castle,  the  oldest  in  Switzerland,  perched  on  a 
crag,  high  above  the  river.  Here,  at  the  Hotel  Adler,  rest 
and  an  excellent  lunch  were  both  obtained,  after  which  the 
whip  cracked  good  by,  and  we  rattled  on,  through  villages, 
and  now  and  then  over  arched  bridges,  and  past  picturesque 
water-wheels,  or  little  Roman  Catholic  churches,  till  at  last 
we  come  to  one  great  bridge  of  a  single  arch,  crossing  the 
Rhine  near  Reicehnau  —  a  bridge  eighty  feet  above  the  river, 
and  two  hundred  and  thirty-seven  feet  long.  We  pass  the 
pretty  village  of  Ems,  and  next  reach  Coire,  where  our  car- 
riage journey  ends,  the  driver  is  paid,  and  we  enjoy  the  novelty 
of  half  an  hour's  ride  by  rail  to  Ragatz. 

Here,  while  enjoying  a  rest  at  sunset,  we  had  from  the 
hotel  balcony  a  glorious  view  of  a  long  line  of  mountains, 
and  a  huge,  flat  wall  of  rock,  upon  which  the  setting  sun 
strikes  after  streaming  between  two  great  mountains,  and 
makes  it  look  like  a  huge  sheet  of  light  bronze  —  one  of 
those  novel  and  indescribable  effects  that  you  see  only  in 
the  Alps. 

The  great  wonder  here,  and,  in  fact,  one  of  the  greatest 
wonders  of  Switzerland,  is  the  Tamina  Gome  and  Pfaffers 
Baths,  which  next  morning  we  rode  to  see.  A  drive  of  two 
miles,  through  a  wild,  romantic  gorge,  —  the  road,  a  part  of 
the  distance,  hewn  out  of  the  solid  ledge,  and  the  river  tearing 


TAMINA   GORGE.  453 

along  over  its  jagged  bed  of  rocks  below,  —  brought  us  to  the 
hotel  of  the  bath  establishment  (or,  rather,  it  is  the  hotel  and 
bath  establishment  combined),  excellently  kept  and  managed, 
and  planted  here  between  two  great  walls  of  rock  on  either 
side,  six  hundred  feet  high.  The  water  is  conveyed  down  to 
it  from  the  hot  springs  in  the  gorge,  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  above,  in  pipes.  Leaving  the  hotel,  we  ascend  on  foot 
up  through  this  wonderful  crack  in  the  mountains.  It  is  a 
cleft,  ranging  in  width  from  twenty  to  forty  feet,  the  pathway 
a  plank  walk,  five  feet  wide,  affixed  by  staples  to  one  side 
of  the  solid  rock. 

These  walls  of  rock  rise  to  the  height  of  four  or  five  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  path,  and,  at  some  points,  actually  meet 
together  overhead,  while  the  narrow  strip,  or  aperture,  for 
most  of  the  way,  lets  in  light  only  sufficient  to  render  visible 
a  huge,  black,  awful  chasm,  the  sides  shiny,  and  dripping  with 
moisture,  and  a  torrent  roaring,  fifty  feet  beneath  our  path, 
waking  a  hundred  strange  echoes.  This  wild  and  wondrous 
passage  is  "  into  the  bowels  of  the  land "  a  distance  of 
eighteen  hundred  and  twenty  feet ;  and  sometimes  the  pas- 
sage brings  us  to  where  the  action  of  the  waters  has  hol- 
lowed out  a  huge,  rocky  dome,  and  the  foaming  river  whirls 
round  in  a  great,  black  pool,  as  if  gathering  strength  for  a 
fresh  rush  from  its  rocky  prison. 

As  we  gradually  approach  the  upper  end  of  this  wild  gorge, 
and  leave  these  weird  chambers  behind,  we  come  to  a  point 
where  clouds  of  steam  are  issuing  from  a  cavern  —  a  cave 
within  a  cavern  —  apparently  the  very  pit  of  Acheron  itself. 
Into  this  steaming  grotto  we  penetrate.  It  is  a  vaulted  cave, 
ninety  feet  in  length ;  a  great  natural  steam-bath.  Our  visages 
were  damp  with  perspiration,  which  started  from  every  jDore,  as 
we  stood  at  the  brink  of  the  hot  spring,  which  was  clear  as  crys- 
tal, scentless,  and  at  a  temperature  of  one  hundred  degrees  Fah- 
renheit. One  does  not  wish  to  remain  in  this  cavern  any  length 
of  time,  unless  fully  prepared  for  a  vapor  bath ;  consequently, 
we  were  soon  outside,  in  the  outer  cavern  or  gorge  again.  The 
pipes  conveying  the  waters  from  the  springs  to  the  bath-house 


454  FALLS    Or    SCHAFFHArXSEN. 

and  hotel  run  along  the  side  of  the  rocky  wall,  next  the  plank 
pathway.  We  retrace  our  steps  back  through  this  wondrous 
gorge,  with  its  tall,  rocky  walls  hundreds  of  feet  above  our 
heads,  and  its  foaming  torrent  leaping  beneath  us  ;  pass  again 
beneath  the  granite  dome,  pass  little  weird  grottos,  and, 
through  the  narrow  cleft ;  look  away  up  to  the  strip  of  sky, 
shining  like  a  band  of  blue  satin  ribbon  over  the  gap,  and 
finally  emerge  once  more  upon  the  open  road,  where  our 
carriage  is  waiting.  We  returned  over  the  romantic  road 
that  brought  us  to  this  great  wonder  of  the  Alpine  region. 

From  Ragatz  we  took  train  en  route  for  Schaffhausen,  via 
Sargans  and  Wallenstadt,  passing  the  beautiful  Serenbach 
Waterfall,  and  along  the  shore  of  the  Lake  of  Wallenstadt,  or 
Wallenstadt  See,  —  as  they  call  it  here,  —  and  which  we  had 
flitting  and  momentary  glances  of,  through  the  openings  at 
the  sides  of  the  nine  tunnels  which  the  railroad  train  thun- 
dered through.  But  the  landscape  views  all  along  this  portion 
of  the  route  of  lake,  mountains,  waterfalls,  valleys,  and  villages, 
formed  one  continuous  charming  picture. 

Our  hotel,  —  the  Schweizerhof,  —  at  the  Falls  of  Schaff- 
hausen, is  admirably  situated  for  a  view  of  these  falls,  which, 
however,  will  disappoint  the  American  who  has  seen  Niagara, 
and  hears  it  stated  (which  I  think  is  incorrect)  that  these  are 
the  finest  falls  in  Europe.  The  actual  fall  of  water  is  not 
above  sixty  feet,  and  appears  at  first  to  be  even  less  than 
this,  and  it  looks  more  like  a  series  of  huge  rapids  than  a 
waterfall ;  indeed,  reminding  one  of  the  rapids  above  Niagara, 
though  the  descent  is,  of  course,  more  abrupt.  Right  in  the 
centre  of  the  falls,  dividing  them  into  three  parts,  are  two 
small  but  high  islands  of  crag,  accessible  only  by  boats,  and 
said  to  be  very  safely  and  easily  reached  by  the  boatmen  in 
attendance  at  the  shore,  who  were  ready  to  take  us  to  the 
middle  island  and  to  the  old  chateau  on  the  opposite  side, 
which  is  the  best  point  of  view,  for  the  usual  fee. 

We  entered  the  boat,  which  was  soon  in  the  midst  of  the 
stream,  and  began  a  series  of  regular  approaches  to  the  rock, 
propelled  by  the  muscular  arms  of  the  boatmen ;  but  in  the 


AMONG    TUE    KAPIDS.  455 

midst  of  these  boiling  surges,  lashing  about  us  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  spattering  us  with  their  angry  spray,  as  the  rowers 
took  advantage  of  certain  eddies  and  currents,  the  appearance 
of  the  surroundings  was  decidedly  dangerous,  and  it  was 
with  a  long-drawn  breath  of  relief  that  we  heard  the  keel  of 
the  boat  grate  on  the  pebbles  at  the  little  landing  at  the  foot 
of  the  central  island.  This  was  a  tall  mass  of  rock,  and  we 
climbed  from  point  to  point,  by  a  not  very  difficult  ascent,  till 
we  reached  the  summit,  some  fifty  feet  above  the  boiling 
flood  —  a  very  favorable  point  of  view,  from  whence  the 
clouds  of  silvery  spray  and  the  war  of  waters  could  be  seen, 
and  also  a  very  fine  view  of  the  rapids  and  river  above,  which 
is  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  wide  at  this  point.  One 
of  these  rocks  has  a  complete  natural  arch,  ten  or  fifteen  feet 
high,  worn  through  it  by  the  furious  waters  which  leap,  lash, 
and  tumble  about  at  the  base  of  our  rocky  citadel. 

Descending,  we  took  to  the  boat  again,  and  started  for 
the  opposite  landing.  Taking  advantage  of  the  current,  the 
boatmen  pushed  out  into  the  swiftest  part  of  it,  and  were 
swept  with  frightful  velocity,  in  half  a  dozen  seconds  of 
time,  over  a  space  which,  to  accomplish  on  our  approach, 
required  nearly  fifteen  minutes.  A  few  dexterous  whirls, 
some  steady  pulling,  and  we  were  landed  at  the  foot  of  the 
ascent  to  the  Castle  of  Laufen,  picturesquely  situated  on  a 
wooded  height  above  us,  and  a  fine  point  of  view.  We 
ascended  the  path,  and  enjoyed  the  prospect  from  the  bal- 
cony of  the  castle,  and  then  looked  at  it  through  the  stained 
glass  windows  of  a  summer-house  on  the  grounds,  and  finally 
descended  to  a  wooden  gallery  which  is  built  out  directly 
over  the  foaming  abyss,  and  so  near  the  rushing  water  that 
you  may  plunge  your  hand  into  the  seething  mass  of  waves. 
India-rubber  overcoats  are  a  necessity  for  this  excursion, 
which  are  provided  by  the  owners  of  the  place,  and  included 
in  the  fee  of  admission. 

The  sensation  of  being  in  the  midst  of  a  great  waterfall, 
and  yet  safe,  is  about  as  correct  a  one,  I  should  judge,  as  can 
be  had,  when  you  stand  at  the  end  of  this  protecting  gallery 


456  DANGEROUS    PASSAGE. 

in  the  shower  of  spray,  the  great  body  of  water  rushing 
towards  the  point  as  if  to  overwhelm  you,  while  you  now 
and  then  receive  a  liberal  dash  of  a  huge  wave,  and  the  thun- 
der of  the  waters  and  rush  of  the  torrent  drown  all  other 
sounds,  and  render  conversation  impracticable.  We  enjoyed 
this  defying  of  the  torrent,  the  foam,  rush  and  war  of  the 
waters,  and  the  brilliant  little  rainbows  which  the  sunlight 
formed  in  the  clouds  of  spray,  and  then  descended  to  the 
landing,  to  be  rowed  back  to  the  opposite  shore. 

This  boat-passage  to  the  central  rock  is  said  to  be  perfectly 
safe,  but  it  certainly  has  not  that  appearance,  and  it  is  one 
that  a  person  at  all  inclined  to  be  timid  would  not  care  to 
repeat.  It  has  just  that  hint  of  the  dangerous  which  gives 
the  excursion  a  zest  which  a  little  peril  seldom  fails  to  pro- 
duce. Timid  though  you  may  be,  you  cannot  help  feeling 
exhilarated  by  the  roaring  of  the  waters  and  the  quick  dash 
of  the  spray  all  around  you ;  and  the  exultant  emotion  which 
you  experience  when  you  jump  on  shore,  and  witness,  from  a 
safe  stand-point,  the  "  perils  you  have  passed,"  fully  compen- 
sates for  the  moment  of  suspense,  when  it  seemed  as  though 
one  misstroke  of  the  boatmen  would  have  dashed  you  into 
eternity. 

We  left  Schaffhausen  at  nine  A.  M.  for  Munich,  had  two 
hours  and  a  half  on  Lake  Constance,  passed  Augsburg,  and 
at  half  past  nine  reached  Munich. 

"Wave,  Munich,  all  thy  banners  wave, 
And  charge  with  all  thy  chivalry  "  — 

Munich,  with  its  magnificent  art  collections,  its  picture  and 
sculpture  galleries,  its  thousand  artists ;  Munich,  with  its 
bronze  statues,  the  home  of  Schwanthaler,  the  city  of  broad 
streets,  the  capital  of  Bavaria,  and  the  city  that  makes  the 
best  beer  in  all  Europe. 

The  great  hotel,  "The  Four  Seasons,"  was  filled  with 
guests,  but  good  rooms  were  obtained  at  the  Baierischer  Hof, 
on  the  Promenaden  Platz ;  and  our  comfortable  quarters  were 
welcome  indeed,  after  eleven  hours'  rapid  journeying.     The 


MUNICH.  457 

last  portion  of  the  way  approaching  Munich  was  dull  enough, 
as  it  was  over  a  broad,  flat  plain,  with  scarcely  any  trees,  and 
the  signs  of  life  were  confined  to  an  occasional  lonely  shep- 
herd, with  his  dog,  guarding  a  flock.  In  fact,  Munich  is 
built  in  the  middle  of  a  great  plain,  which  is  flat  and  unin- 
teresting, and  the  city  itself  is  not  considered  healthy  for 
Americans  or  English  to  reside  in  any  length  of  time.  It  is, 
however,  one  of  the  European  cities  that  have  grown  in  size 
very  rapidly  the  last  thirty  years,  and  the  newer  parts,  built 
out  into  the  plain,  away  from  the  old  city,  waiting  for  the  gap 
between  to  fill  up,  remind  the  American  traveller  of  cities  in 
his  native  land. 

The  first  sights  of  all  others  in  Munich  to  which  the  tour- 
ist turns  his  attention,  are  the  art  collections.  The  Glypto- 
thek  is  the  gallery  of  sculpture,  and  the  Pinacothek  the  pic- 
ture gallery ;  and  the  admission  to  these  superb  and  priceless 
collections  is  free  to  all.  The  buildings  stand  opposite  to 
each  other;  and,  as  we  find  how  much  this  city  owes  to  old 
King  Louis  for  its  position  as  a  seat  of  the  fine  arts;  how 
many  beautiful  buildings,  statues,  galleries,  public  edifices, 
and  streets,  were  built  by  his  order ;  and,  still  further,  that 
the  expenses  of  the  Glyptothek  and  other  collections  were 
paid  for  from  his  own  privy  purse,  —  we  feel  inclined  to  look 
with  a  lenient  eye  upon  the  old  monarch's  regard  for  pretty 
women,  and  the  Lola  Montez  scandal. 

The  Pinacothek  is  a  magnificent  building,  shaped  like  the 
letter  I,  and  is  divided  off  into  nine  splendid  halls,  devoted 
to  different  schools  of  art.  Opening  off  or  out  of  these  halls 
are  twenty-three  smaller  rooms,  or  cabinets,  for  the  smaller 
pictures  of  each  school.  Thus  there  are  three  great  halls 
devoted  to  the  Italian  school  of  art,  two  to  the  Dutch  school, 
two  to  the  German,  one  to  the  French  and  Spanish,  and  a 
great  central  hall  to  Rubens.  In  these  great  halls  the  larger 
pictures  are  hung,  and  the  light,  which  comes  from  the  roof, 
is  well  and  artistically  managed  for  displaying  their  beauties. 
In  the  cabinets  are  the  ordinary  sized  and  smaller  paintings. 
But  what  a  wealth  of  art !     There  are  nearly  fifteen  hundred 


458  THE    OLD    MASTERS. 

elegant  paintings,  hundreds  of  them  by  some  of  the  most 
celebrated  artists  that  ever  lived,  and  nearly  all  of  them 
works  that  you  want  time  to  study  and  admire. 

The  American  who  has  been  shown  an  occasional  old  dingy 
head  or  blackened  landscape,  half  obliterated  by  age,  in  his 
own  country,  and  told  it  is  a  rare  treasure,  —  one  of  the  old 
masters,  —  and  who,  as  many  do,  comes  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  old  masters  did  not  put  what  he  should  call  finish 
into  their  works,  will  have  all  impressions  of  that  nature 
removed  by  his  visit  to  this  priceless  collection.  Here  he 
will  see  pictures  that  startle  even  the  casual  observer  by 
their  wondrous  faithfulness  to  nature ;  pictures  upon  which 
the  hand  of  the  artist  is  visible  in  the  minutest  detail,  the 
coloring  and  finish  of  which  betray  the  most  laborious  appli- 
cation, and  which  excite  from  him  who  may  have  been  silent 
over  expressions  of  admiration  at  pictures  at  home  which 
were  not  his  ideals  of  excellence,  —  silent,  perhaps,  from  fear- 
ing that  he  might  be  incorrect  in  judgment,  —  the  honest  as- 
sertion, that  here  is  his  ideal  of  the  artistic,  and  convince  him 
that  a  picture  cleanly  finished  in  all  its  details,  fresh  in  color, 
sharp,  distinct,  and  well  defined,  can  be  artistic;  and  that 
even  the  best  of  the  old  masters,  if  their  works  can  be  taken 
as  an  indication,  thought  so,  too. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  humbug  in  the  popular  admiration 
of  muddy,  indistinct  old  daubs,  half  defaced  by  age ;  and  the 
visitor  here,  in  inspecting  some  of  these  wondrous  creations, 
where  the  artist,  in  groups  of  angels  and  cherubs,  puts  ex- 
quisite features  to  faces  the  size  of  one's  thumb  nail,  and 
grace  into  those  ten  times  that  size  in  the  same  work,  ascer- 
tains that  a  picture,  to  be  really  beautiful,  must  be  completely 
and  artistically  finished. 

It  would  be  useless,  in  these  limits,  to  attempt  a  detailed 
description  of  this  world-renowned  collection,  to  which  two 
or  three  visits  are  but  an  aggravation  to  the  lover  of  art. 
Tourists  generally  "  do  "  it  in  one  hasty  visit,  like  many  other 
sights,  simply  to  say  they  have  been  there. 

My  note-book  and  catalogues  are  crammed  with  sentences 


GREAT  TAINTEES'  MASTERPIECES.  459 

of  admiration  and  marginal  notes ;  but  a  foAv  extracts  will 
give  the  reader  who  has  not  been  abroad  an  idea  of  the  in- 
terest of  this  gallery.  First,  there  were  two  great  halls  and 
six  or  eight  ante-rooms  devoted  to  the  German  school  of  art. 
Here  we  saw  numerous  pictures  by  Albert  Diirer  —  a  Knight 
in  Armor,  St.  Peter  and  St.  John,  the  Birth  of  Christ,  &c. ;  a 
number  by  Holbein,  the  elder  and  younger;  Wohlgemuth, 
some  strikingly  effective  pictures  from  the  life  of  Christ; 
Quentin  Matsys'  well-known  picture  of  the  Misers;  Ma- 
beuse's  noble  picture  of  the  archangel  Michael;  Dietrich's 
splendid  sea  scenes ;  Van  Eyck's  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  An- 
nunciation, and  Presentation  in  the  Temple — pictures  of  won- 
derful execution,  the  faces  finished  exquisitely,  and  the  minu- 
test details  executed  in  a  manner  to  command  admiration; 
Albert  Diirer's  Mater  Dolorosa ;  the  head  of  an  old  woman 
and  man,  the  most  wonderful  pictures  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw, 
painted  by  Balthasar  Denner,  and  every  wrinkle,  hair,  speck, 
pore  of  the  skin,  depicted  with  such  wonderful  and  micro- 
scopic exactness  as  to  render  it  an  impossibility  to 'tell  it  from 
a  living  person  at  three  feet  distance. 

The  third  and  fifth  halls  are  filled  with  paintings  of  the 
Dutch  school  by  the  pupils  of  Rubens  and  other  artists,  and 
the  nine  cabinets,  or  smaller  halls  opening  out  of  them,  with 
pictures  by  various  Flemish  and  Dutch  masters.  Here  were 
Teniers'  elegantly  finished  and  admirable  pictures  of  Boors 
Smoking,  Boors  at  Cards ;  Ostade's  Boors  Quarrelling  and 
Boors  Merry-making;  Gerard  Dow's  Mountebank  at  the 
Fair,  Wouvermans'  Stag  Hunt,  Vandyke's  Susanna  and  the 
Elders,  Rembrandt's  magnificent  Descent  from  the  Cross, 
&c,  besides  many  other  Rembrandts,  Teniers,  Ostades,  and 
Van  der  Werfs,  any  one  of  which  was  a  study,  a  plethora,  a 
wilderness  of  beauty. 

The  fourth  apartment,  or  central  hall,  is  devoted  entirely 
to  the  works  of  Rubens,  and  contains  nearly  a  hundred  of  the 
great  master's  pictures.  There  was  his  Christ  on  the  Cross, 
a  most  terribly  real  picture,  that  made  one  almost  shudder  to 
look  upon ;  the  Fall  of  the  Angels,  a  remarkable  and  won- 


460  GALLERIES    OF   PAINTINGS. 

drous  work  of  art;  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents,  the 
Sabine  Women,  the  Last  Judgment,  Triumph  of  Religion, 
Rubens  and  his  Wife  in  a  Garden,  the  Lion  Hunt,  &c. 
But  just  think  of  one  room  in  a  gallery  with  a  hundred  of 
Rubens's  best  works  surrounding  you;  it  is  useless  to  at- 
tempt description.  The  ante-room,  containing  the  best  pic- 
tures, to  my  mind,  was  that  filled  with  Van  der  Werf's 
paintings,  which  were  marvellously  clear  and  sharp  in  their 
execution,  and  finished  with  exquisite  skill.  Here  were 
the  Magdalen  in  a  Grotto,  Rest  on  the  Flight  into  Egypt, 
Ecce  Homo  —  all  pictures  of  superb  coloring  never  seen 
in  any  modern  Avork  of  art ;  Abraham  sending  forth  Hagar 
and  Ishmael ;  portrait  of  the  wife  of  the  Elector  John  Wil- 
liam ;  these  two  paintings  were  finished  equal  to  engravings. 
In  Jesus  disputing  with  the  Doctors  in  the  Temple,  the 
faces  of  the  disputants  are  wondrous  studies,  exhibiting  vari- 
ous emotions,  and  the  figure  of  Christ,  a  beautiful  boy,  has 
the  look  of  Heaven  in  every  lineament  of  his  face.  Many 
other  perfectly  finished  pictures  that  hold  one  entranced  with 
their  wondrous  beauty  are  in  this  room. 

Now  we  come  to  the  sixth  hall,  containing  the  Spanish  and 
French  schools ;  and  here  are  those  pictures  of  Murillo's  with 
which  we  are  all  so  familiar  from  engravings,  viz.,  the  Beg- 
gar Boys  eating  Melons  and  Grapes,  Boys  playing  Dice, 
Beggar  Boys,  &c. ;  Nicolas  Poussin's  pictures,  &c. 

The  seventh  and  eighth  great  halls  contain  other  paintings 
of  the  same  schools  of  art ;  among  them  Carlo  Dolce,  Tinto- 
retto, Domenichino,  and  Correggio.  So  also  does  the  ninth 
apai'tment,  formerly  the  private  cabinet  of  the  king,  in  which 
there  are  beautiful  works  from  the  pencil  of  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  Giorgione,  and  Raphael.  We  come 
from  this  gallery  of  art  literally  surfeited,  fatigued  with  long 
gazing,  walking,  pausing,  looking,  wondering,  and  admiring, 
and  realize  over  again  what  an  exhausting  work  is  continuous 
sight-seeing. 

Besides  the  art  collections  which  have  already  been  de- 
scibed,  we  visited  the  new  Pinacothek,  containing  ten  halls 


GRECIAN    SCULPTURE    RESTORED.  461 

and  fourteen  cabinets  for  the  exhibition  of  modern  paintings, 
among  which  we  saw  Kaulbach's  Destruction  of  Jerusalem,  a 
magnificent  picture,  familiar  from  the  print  that  has  been  made 
of  it;  Wilkie's  capital  painting  of  the  Reading  of  the  Will ; 
the  Deluge,  by  Charles  Schorn,  a  Dusseldorf  artist ;  Peasant's 
Wedding,  an  excellent  picture  by  Maurice  Mullcr;  Fred- 
eric Bischof's  First  Snow;  Battle  of  Custozza,  by  Adam; 
Two  Boys  buying  their  first  Cigars,  by  II.  Rhomberg,  a 
Munich  artist,  &c.  There  were  nearly  three  hundred  pic- 
tures in  this  collection,  which  was  first  opened  to  the  public 
in  1853. 

The  Glyptothek,  or  Hall  of  Sculpture,  is  another  priceless 
collection  of  art.  The  exterior  is  handsomely  adorned  with 
statues,  and  the  interior,  which  consists  of  twelve  halls,  and 
each  devoted  to  different  branches  of  art,  is  admirably  planned 
and  appropriately  decorated. 

In  the  hall  known  as  the  iEginetan,  which  is  devoted  to 
marbles  discovered  in  the  Island  of  iEgina,  we  saw  a  splendid 
group  of  marble  figures,  fourteen  in  number,  which  have  been 
set  up  exactly  in  the  position  they  formerly  occupied  ^on  the 
Grecian  temple  they  adorned,  being  carefully  put  together, 
and  such  parts  as  were  broken  carefully  restored  by  Thor- 
waldscn,  giving  one  some  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the  sculpture 
of  the  ancient  Greeks,  and  showing  the  actual  figures  in  all 
their  spirited  grace  and  action,  which  has  never  been  excelled 
by  modern  sculptors. 

There  wrere  Hercules  and  Telamon  fighting  the  Trojans, 
and  the  struggle  of  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  over  the  body  of 
Patroclus,  as  described  by  Homer,  the  warriors  with  helmet, 
shield,  and  javelin,  in  the  most  spirited  attitudes  —  specimens 
of  the  wondrous  skill  of  the  ancient  sculptors,  and  the  reality 
of  those  outline  engravings,  by  Flaxman  and  others,  of  stat- 
ues and  sculpture,  which  adorn  the  illustrated  books  of  Greek 
and  Roman  history.  In  the  Hall  of  Apollo,  among  many 
other  fine  works,  were  a  superb  Bacchus,  found  at  Athens, 
with  a  crown  of  vine  leaves  most  exquisitely  cut,  a  beautiful 
Ceres,  and  a  grand  and  majestic  statue  of  Minerva. 


462  A    BRONZE    GIAST. 

The  Hall  of  Bacchus,  however,  contains  the  gem  of  the 
whole  collection,  and,  in  fact,  the  most  wonderful  and  life-like 
statue  I  ever  looked  upon — the  celebrated  Barberini"  Faun, 
a  colossal  figure  of  a  Satyr,  half  sitting,  half  reclining,  as  if  in 
a  deep  sleep  after  a  carouse.  The  attitude  is  so  perfect,  the 
appearance  of  relaxation  of  the  muscles  and  limbs  so  thor- 
oughly true  to  nature,  and  the  very  atmosphere  of  complete 
languor  and  repose  so  pervades  the  countenance  and  whole 
body  of  the  figure,  that  the  spectator  almost  forgets  it  is  but 
senseless  stone  before  him  in  half  expectancy  of  the  breast 
heaving  to  the  breathings  of  the  sleeper,  which  seems  all  that 
is  lacking  to  make  it  a  living  reality;  and  yet  this  wondrous 
work  is  from  an  unknown  hand.  The  catalogues  and  guide- 
books claim  it  is  from  the  chisel  of  Praxiteles ;  but  that  is  only 
surmise.  On  account  of  its  excellence  they  doubtless  think  it 
ought  to  be ;  but  it  was  dug  out  of  the  ditch  of  the  Castle  of 
St.  Angelo,  where  it  was  supposed  to  have  been  hurled  from 
the  walls  in  the  year  537.  In  this  hall  is  also  a  magnificently 
executed  figure  of  Silenus,  Bacchus  and  Panther. 

In  the  Hall  of  Heroes  are  some  splendid  figures;  Jason 
binding  on  his  Sandal;  Nero  as  a  gladiator,  a  fine  head,  with 
the  brow  and  curls  of  a  Hercules ;  the  Victorious  Gladiator, 
Alexander  the  Great,  &c.  In  the  hall  of  modern  sculpture 
were  Canova's  beautiful  figures  of  Paris  and  Venus ;  Adonis, 
by  Thorwaldsen;  Love  and  the  Muse,  by  Eberhardt;  and 
others,  giving  the  visitor  an  opportunity  of  comparing  ancient 
with  modern  art. 

The  great  bronze  statue  of  Bavaria,  just  outside  the  city,  is 
a  huge  figure  of  sixty  feet  in  height,  standing  upon  a  pedestal 
thirty  feet  high.  It  represents  a  female  with  a  sword  in  her 
right  hand,  while  the  left  raises  on  high  the  wreath  of  victory. 
At  her  side  sits  the  lion  of  Bavaria.  By  the  staircase  inside 
we  ascended  to  the  head  of  the  bronze  giant,  which  we  found 
would  comfortably  accommodate  eight  or  nine  persons ;  and 
from  a  window  in  its  curling  locks  we  had  a  fine  view  of 
Munich  and  the  surrounding  country.  This  great  statue  was 
modelled  by  Schwanthaler,  and  cast  by  F.  Miller  at  the  royal 


HALL   OF    THE   COLOSSI.  4G3 

fonndery  of  Munich,  where  so  many  bronze  figures  for  this 
country  have  been  cast;  and  having  for  that  reason  a  desire 
to  see  it,  we  drove  thither.  On  sending  our  cards  in,  with  a 
message  that  we  were  a  party  of  Americans,  we  were  im- 
mediately Avaited  upon  by  the  superintendent,  who,  with  the 
greatest  courtesy,  showed  us  over  the  entire  establishment, 
where  were  bronze  giants  in  every  process  of  manufacture, 
from  the  mass  of  liquid  metal  to  the  shapely  figure  under  the 
artistic  files  of  the  finishers. 

We  were  shown  here  the  Hall  of  the  Colossi,  in  which  were 
the  plaster  models  of  all  the  works  that  have  been  executed 
at  the  foundeiy.  Here,  among  others,  we  saw  the  cast  of  the 
statue  of  Henry  Clay,  made  for  New  Orleans,  those  of  Bee- 
thoven for  Boston  Music  Hall,  and  Horace  Mann  for  Boston 
State  House  grounds,  Colonel  Benton  for  St.  Louis,  and  the 
figures  of  Jefferson,  Mason,  Henry,  Nelson,  Lewis,  and  Mar- 
shall, which  adorn  the  "Washington  Monument  at  Richmond, 
Va. ;  also  the  model  of  the  triumphal  car,  drawn  by  lions, 
which  adorns  the  arch  at  one  end  of  the  fine  street  (Lud- 
wigstrasse)  named  after  King  Louis.  The  lions  we're  giants 
ten  feet  high,  and  a  cast  of  the  hand  of  the  great  figure  of 
Bavaria  was  six  or  seven  feet  Ions;  and  two  feet  thick,  sue;- 

O  *  CD 

gesting  that  a  box  on  the  car  from  such  a  palm  would  un- 
doubtedly be  a  "  stunner."  From  here  we  naturally  went  to 
the  studio  of  the  great  sculptor  Schwanthalcr,  where  wo  were 
courteously  received  by  his  son,  and  were  interested  in  the 
processes  of  sculpture,  which  we  saw  in  all  its  phases  under 
the  workmen's  hands. 

Many  of  the  streets  of  Munich  are  broad  and  beautiful,  and 
the  squares  adorned  with  statues.  A  bronze  obelisk  in  the 
Karolinenplatz,  nearly  a  hundred  feet  high,  formed  from 
captured  cannon,  is  erected  in  memory  of  the  Bavarians  who 
fell  in  the  army  of  Bonaparte  during  the  Russian  campaign ; 
and  statues  of  King  Louis  and  Schiller  are  in  the  Odeon 
Platz ;  while  in  another  square  is  another  statue,  formed  from 
captured  cannon,  of  Maximilian  I.,  surrounded  by  four  other 
statues  of  distinguished  Bavarians. 


464  THE    PALACE. 

The  new  palace  which  we  visited  was  rich  in  elegant  pic- 
tures, beautiful  frescoes,  and  works  of  art.  In  one  series  of 
rooms  were  great  paintings  illustrating  the  history  of  Bavaria. 
Some  of  the  rooms  containing  them  bore  the  names  of  Hall 
of  Marriage,  Hall  of  Treachery,  Hall  of  Revenge,  &c,  the 
scenes  in  these  apartments  being  those  historical  events  in 
which  these  characteristics  were  prominent.  Schwanthaler 
and  Kaulbach's  pencils  have  contributed  liberally  to  the  dec- 
oration of  many  of  the  rooms,  particularly  the  Throne  Room, 
which  contains  the  illustrations  of  a  German  poem,  painted 
by  Kaulbach,  and  another  room  with  thirty  or  forty  illustra- 
tions of  Goethe's  works,  by  the  same  artist. 

The  Hall  of  Frederick  Barbarossa  contains  fine  large  paint- 
ings of  scenes  in  his  life,  including  his  battle  and  victory  in 
the  third  crusade.  Then  we  have  the  Hall  of  Charlemagne, 
with  great  pictures  of  his  battle  scenes,  and  the  Hall  of  Beau- 
ties, which  contains  a  series  of  portraits  of  beautiful  women 
of  Bavaria,  painted  by  order  of  the  late  king,  without  regard 
to  rank  or  station ;  so  that  here  the  peasant  girl  jostles  the 
banker's  daughter,  and  the  duchess  finds  herself  face  to  face 
with  the  child  of  a  cobbler  —  the  stamp  of  beauty  being  the 
signet  that  admitted  each  to  this  collection,  which,  in  truth, 
does  honor  to  the  king's  judgment. 

The  great  Throne  Room  is  a  magnificent  apartment,  one 
hundred  and  eight  feet  long  and  seventy-five  wide.  At  the 
upper  end  of  the  throne,  and  on  either  side  between  the  tall 
marble  Corinthian  pillars  with  gold  capitals,  stand  twelve 
colossal  statues  in  gilt  bronze.  The  statues,  which  are  ten 
feet  high,  were  designed  by  Schwanthaler,  and  represent  the 
different  princes  of  the  house  of  Bavaria,  beginning  with 
Otho,  1253,  and  ending  with  Charles  XII.,  1798.  The  figures 
are  very  finely  executed,  and  in  the  costumes  and  weapons 
show  the  progress  of  civilization.  This  room  is,  in  truth,  a 
royal  one,  and  is  as  fit  to  hold  a  royal  reception  in  as  one 
could  wish.  In  fact,  as  we  look  round  through  Munich,  capi- 
tal of  the  little  kingdom  of  Bavaria,  with  its  less  than  five 
million  souls,  we  get  the  impression  that  it  has  art,  wealth, 


BASILICA   OF    ST.   BONIFACE.  4G5 

galleries,  libraries,  &c,  enough  for  the  capital  of  an  empire  of 
five  times  its  size. 

Munich  makes  beer  that  is  celebrated  for  its  quality,  and 
the  quantity  drank  here  is  something  fabulous.  I  am  confi- 
dent it  is  a  necessity  at  all  the  gardens  where  the  musical 
performances  are  given ;  and  apropos,  the  superb  music  which 
one  may  listen  to  here  for  a  mere  trifle  is  astonishing.  I  vis- 
ited one  of  these  gardens,  where  GungTs  band  of  about  forty 
performers  played  a  splendid  programme  —  twelve  composi- 
tions of  Strauss,  Wagner,  Beethoven,  Mendelssohn,  and 
Gung'l.  But  those  Strauss  and  Gung'l  waltzes  and  galops  — 
they  were  given  with  a  precision  and  spirit  that  were  posi- 
tively electrical.  One  could  almost  hear  the  dancers'  feet  slip 
to  the  luxurious  murmuring  of  the  waltz,  or  catch  the  gusts 
of  air  that  whirled  from  the  rush  of  the  rattling  galop.  Ad- 
mission to  this  concert  was  eight  cents,  and  order  what  you 
choose  —  a  glass  of  beer  for  four  or  five  cents,  or  a  bottle  of 
wine  at  from  twenty  cents  to  two  dollars. 

One  of  the  monuments  which  old  King  Louis,  or  Ludwig, 
as  they  call  him  here,  leaves  behind  him  is  the  Basilica  of  St. 
Boniface,  built  to  commemorate  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary 
of  the  king's  marriage  —  the  finest  church  in  Munich,  and 
built  in  imitation  of  a  Roman  basilica  of  the  sixth  century. 
The  interior  presents  a  superb  sight,  the  roof  being  supported 
by  sixty-four  splendid  columns  of  gray  marble,  making  a  nave 
and  four  aisles.  The  view  through  the  length  of  these  aisles, 
amid  the  forest  of  pillars  for  a  distance  of  two  hundred  and 
eighty-five  feet,  and  up  to  the  roof,  which  is  eighty  feet  from 
the  pavement,  and  represents  the  firmament  studded  with 
golden  stars,  is  inexpressibly  beautiful.  The  magnificent 
frescoes  on  the  walls,  perfections  in  the  art,  by  Henry  Hess 
and  his  students,  and  the  splendid  pictures  illustrating  the 
progress  of  Christianity  in  Germany,  and  scenes  in  the  life  of 
St.  Boniface,  heighten  the  effect.  The  church  was  finished  in 
1850,  and  has  all  the  beauty  and  freshness  of  modern  work- 
manship upon  an  ancient  model.  It  is  certainly  one  of  the 
most  elegant  and  artistical  of  ecclesiastical  interiors.  The 
30 


466  SALZBUKG. 

sarcophagus  of  King  Louis  and  of  liis  queen,  Therese,  is  in 
this  church,  and  beneath  it  a  crypt  for  the  interment  of  the 
Benedictine  monks,  who  are  in  some  way  or  other  attached 
to  the  church. 

In  the  great  cathedi'al  —  a  huge  brick  building  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty  feet  in  length,  with  its  windows  sixty-seven 
feet  high,  filled  with  the  rich  stained  glass  of  the  fifteenth 
century  —  we  saw  the  monument  of  the  Emperor  Louis, 
erected  in  1622,  upheld  upon  the  shoulders  of  four  stalwart 
knights,  armed  cap-a-pie,  in  bronze,  the  size  of  life. 

The  public  library  of  Munich  is  another  storehouse  of  "treas- 
ures. It  is  a  huge  three-story  building,  with  a  superb  stair- 
case and  magnificent  architectural  interior,  and  contains  eight 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  books,  and  twenty-two  thousand 
manuscripts,  besides  coins  and  literary  curiosities  of  priceless 
value,  such  as  block-books,  printed  anterior  to  1500,  manu- 
scripts of  the  New  Testament,  in  the  seventh  and  eighth  cen- 
turies, the  code  of  laws  given  by  Alaric  to  the  West  Goths  in 
506,  Luther's  Bible,  containing  his  own  and  Melanchthon's 
portraits,  and  other  rarities  of  like  interest.  This  library  is 
the  second  largest  in  existence,  being  exceeded  in  extent  only 
by  that  of  Paris. 

But  the  reader  will  tire  of  Munich  and  its  art  treasures,  if 
we  do  not ;  so  we  will  bid  them  a  reluctant  adieu,  and  take 
train  for  Salzburg.  This  was  an  eight  hours'  ride,  and  of  no 
particular  note,  except  that  at  every  crossing  on  the  railroad, 
and  at  intervals  on  the  line,  we  saw  switch-tenders,  or  station- 
masters,  who  were  in  the  red  uniform  of  the  railroad  com- 
pany, and  stood  upright  in  military  position,  with  hand  raised 
to  the  cap  in  salute,  as  the  train  whizzed  past  them.  Arrived  at 
Salzburg,  we  went  to  the  fine  Hotel  de  PEurope,  where,  among 
other  excellences  of  the  Austrian  cuisine,  we  had  Austrian 
bread,  the  best  in  the  woi-ld,  such  as,  once  tasted,  makes  the 
eater  ever  long  for  it,  and  establish  it  in  his  mind  as  the 
standard  by  which  the  quality  of  all  others  is  regulated. 

The  city  is  on  the  River  Salza,  and  in  quite  a  picturesque 
situation,  at  the  foot  of  the  great  Alpine  heights,  with  a  semi- 


AQUAKIAL   WONDERS.  467 

circle  of  mountains  about  it.  The  plain,  or  valley,  about  the 
city  is  rich  in  beautiful  gardens,  orchards,  groves,  and  country 
houses,  the  dark-wooded  heights  and  slopes  of  the  mountains 
forming  the  framework  of  the  picture,  and  in  the  centre  Salz- 
burg Castle  perched  upon  its  -high  rock,  reminding  one  very 
much,  from  its  appearance  and  position,  of  Edinburgh  Castle. 

We  have  driven  round  the  dull  old  town,  seen  the  house 
where  Mozart  was  born,  and  his  statue  by  Schwanthaler  in 
one  of  the  squares,  and  bought  elegantly-painted  china  covers 
for  the  tops  of  beer  mugs  —  drinkers  at  the  bier  halles  hav- 
ing their  special  mugs,  and  recognizing  them  by  the  design 
upon  the  cover.  Some  of  the  beer  flagons  and  tankards  ex- 
posed for  sale  here  were  veiy  beautiful  and  elaborate,  and  got 
up  with  much  artistic  taste. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  rides  we  ever  took  was  over  the 
romantic  road  from  Salzburg  out  to  the  Chateau  of  Hellbrunn, 
for  the  whole  distance  of  nearly  three  miles  was  one  continu- 
ous arch  of  splendid  elms,  shading  the  broad,  smooth,  level 
road.  The  view  of  the  town,  and  the  old  castle  in  the  centre, 
with  the  background  of  grand  Alpine  walls,  which  we  had 
constantly  before  us,  and  from  many  different  points  of  ob- 
servation, was  very  picturesque  and  beautiful. 

The  gardens  of  the  chateau  are  celebrated  for  containing 
the  most  wonderful  and  curious  of  water-works.  The  grounds 
are  beautifully  laid  out,  and  at  every  turn  we  met  new  sur- 
prises. There  was,  of  course,  every  vaiiety  of  ordinary  foun- 
tain, dolphins  and  nymphs  spouting,  &c,  and  besides  these 
many  curious  contrivances  for  the  fluid.  There  were  two 
beautiful  pictures  painted  on  copper,  before  which  was  appar- 
ently a  sheet  of  glass  ;  but  it  was  only  a  broad,  thin,  falling, 
transparent,  aqueous  curtain.  A  beautiful  bouquet  of  flowers 
was  enclosed  in  a  complete  hemisphere  of  falling  water,  as 
pure  and  unbroken  as  a  glass  globe,  with  scarcely  a  percepti- 
ble motion  in  its  swift  current.  Two  turtles,  directly  opposite 
each  other,  five  feet  apart,  seemed  to  hold  a  glass  cord,  the 
size  of  a  man's  finger  between  them,  in  their  mouths.  Touch- 
ing the  transparent  cord  with  a  cane,  we  interrupted  a  swift 


468  INGENIOUS    MECHANISM. 

stream,  and  the  liquid  spattered  in  every  direction.  The  cane 
was  withdrawn,  the  stream  immediately  reunited,  and  the 
turtles  again  held  their  apparently  motionless  crystal  cord  as 
before.  We  came  to  automaton  old  men  grinding  their 
scythes  at  a  grindstone,  millers  at  work  at  their  mill,  all  run- 
ning by  water  power;  entered  a  wondrous  grotto,  where 
Neptune  in  his  car  drawn  by  sea-horses  swam  around,  the 
horses  and  dolphins  spouting  liquid  streams  from  their  mouths, 
and  birds  piping  their  liquid  notes  from  the  wall,  all  moved  by 
water  power. 

In  another  beautiful  grotto  a  whirling  fountain  lifted  a 
handsome  golden  crown  eight  feet  into  the  air,  and  kept  it 
suspended  amid  a  shower  of  sparkling  drops.  Taking  a  posi- 
tion at  the  rear  of  a  dark  cavern,  and  looking  out  towards  the 
little  arched  entrance,  the  water  was  let  on  in  fine  mist,  and 
the  arched  doorway  was  as  rich  as  the  gates  of  Paradise  in 
wreathed  rainbows.  Two  huge  stags  guarded  another  cav- 
ern, streams  issuing  from  their  mouths  and  every  point  of 
their  huge  antlers.  Hunters  were  on  galloping  steeds,  and 
blew  torrents  from  their  horns,  or  were  enveloped  in  the 
floods  that  spouted  from  their  spear-heads.  Luxurious  seats 
invited  the  tired  pedestrian  to  repose,  when,  on  seating  him- 
self, he  was  ringed  in  with  a  circle  of  miniature  water-spouts, 
rendering  dry  egress  apparently  impossible.  Finally  we  came 
to  a  place  where  two  huge  doors  were  thrown  ojjen,  display- 
ing a  space  about  twelve  feet  high  and  eight  or  ten  wide,  in 
which  was  the  complete  representation  in  miniature  of  the 
square  in  a  city. 

There  were  cathedral,  palace,  dwelling-house,  and  artisans' 
shops,  all  faithfully  represented ;  and  in  the  streets,  the  shops 
and  the  houses  which  were  open  to  view,  were  over  one 
hundred  automaton  figures  of  men,  women,  and  children,  all 
moved  by  water  power,  and  giving  life  to  the  scene  before 
you.  There  were  masons  hoisting  stone  and  building  a  house, 
coopers  and  tinkers  clattering  away  in  their  shops,  butchers 
killing  and  cutting  up,  cobblers  pegging  away  in  their  little 
stalls,  wood-sawyers,  blacksmiths  beating  with  a  regular  clink- 


A   VIEW   OF   LILLIPUT.  469 

clank-clink  upon  their  anvils,  artisans  in  their  shops ;  also  all 
the  usual  street  scenes  of  a  city.  Here  was  a  man  with  a 
dancing  bear,  surrounded  by  a  curious  crowd ;  there  a  shrew- 
ish old  woman  shaking  her  head,  gesticulating,  and  scolding 
at  her  tipsy  husband  ;  children  playing  in  the  street ;  ladies, 
looking  from  windows  of  houses,  returned  the  courtly  salutes 
of  gallants  who  passed  by  in  the  streets  with  graceful  bow  or 
wave  of  the  hand  ;  loaded  teams  passed  by ;  people  went  in 
and  out  of  houses ;  Turks,  priests,  Jews,  and  courtiers  passed 
along  in  the  most  natural  manner,  and  finally  came  a  whole 
regiment  of  soldiers,  marching  across  the  square ;  at  last,  the 
notes  of  the  organ  were  heard  in  the  cathedral,  and  into  its 
broad  portal  filed  priests  and  people,  and  the  scene  closed. 
The  size  of  these  automatons  was  from  six  to  eight  inches ; 
they  were  very  well  executed ;  and  the  whole  scene,  with  the 
cathedral,  square,  streets,  and  throng  of  moving  figures,  seemed 
a  sort  of  realization  of  Gulliver's  experiences  in  Lilliput.  This 
place  is  the  property  of  the  king,  and  no  fee  is  charged  for 
viewing  it  and  its  many  wonders ;  nevertheless,  the  custodian, 
who  had  so  kindly  and  faithfully  exhibited  them  to  our  party, 
was  extremely  gratified  at  the  magnificent  fee  of  thirty  cents, 
and  took  leave  of  us  with  a  profusion  of  bows  and  polite 
expressions. 

Our  visit  to  the  old  castle  was  also  an  interesting  one. 
From  its  battlements  we  looked  directly  down  upon  the  town, 
and,  afar  off,  on  a  beautiful  landscape  of  fields,  winding  river, 
and  distant  mountain.  Within  the  walls  we  saw  the  grand 
apartments  of  the  old  bishops,  and  the  remains  of  the  torture 
chamber,  fragments  of  the  rack,  and  other  hellish  inventions 
of  cruel  ingenuity  which  they  used  to  apply  to  their  victims. 

Following  the  advice  of  a  friend,  we  telegraphed  on  in 
advance  to  the  Hotel  Archduke  Charles,  at  Vienna,  that  we 
were  coming,  and  to  secure  rooms.  An  eight  hours'  ride  by 
rail  brought  us  to  the  capital  of  the  Austrian  dominions,  and 
I  had  scarce  stepped  from  the  railway  carriage  ere  a  well- 
dressed,  gentlemanly-looking  individual,  in  dress  coat,  dark 
pants  and  vest,  gloves,  spotless  shirt-front,  and  immaculate 


470  JUDGING   BY    APPEARANCES. 

neck-tie,  called  me  by  name,  and  in  perfectly  correct  English 
inquired  if  the  luggage  of  the  party  was  upon  the  train, 
and  was  to  be  taken  to  the  hotel.  I  looked  at  him  inquiringly, 
and  assented. 

"  I  am  attached  to  the  hotel,  sir,  and  have  received  your 
despatch  (exhibiting  it).  If  you  will  please  to  step  into  this 
carriage  we  have  in  waiting  for  you,  after  pointing  ovt  your 
trunks,  I  will  follow  you  with  them." 

We  were  amazed,  and  began  to  wonder  whether  or  not  the 
fellow  might  not  be  a  clever  English  impostor,  who  had 
obtained  our  telegraphic  despatch  with  a  view  of  getting  our 
luggage  into  his  hands,  and  running  away  with  it.  Our 
doubts  were,  however,  soon  settled  by  a  young  Prussian  lady 
of  the  party,  who  conversed  with  him  in  his  native  tongue, 
and  found  that  he  was  a  sort  of  chief  clerk,  or  managing  man, 
for  the  proprietors  of  the  hotel,'  and  was  equally  at  home  in 
the  German,  French,  or  English  languages.  We  therefore 
committed  our  impedimenta  to  his  charge,  were  escorted  by 
him  to  the  carriage,  when,  as  he  helped  us  in,  tumbled  and 
travel-stained  as  we  were,  and  passed  in  the  travelling- 
pouches  and  shawls,  and  stood  in  his  spotless  linen  and 
polished  boots,  raising  his  French  hat,  as  if  he  had  just 
stepped  from  a  ball-room  or  the  opera,  —  I  could  not  help 
feeling  a  little  awkward  at  presuming  to  permit  so  gentle- 
manly-appearing a  personage  to  perform  a  menial  act;  but 
our  reflections  were  cut  short  by  his  rapid  directions  to  the 
driver  in  his  own  tongue.  The  coach-door  was  clapped  to, 
and  we  were  soon  whirling  through  the  brilliantly-lighted 
streets  on  our  way  to  the  hotel. 

Vienna  appears  to  be  a  city  that  is  having  immense  ad- 
ditions made  to  it ;  in  fact,  to  have  recently  taken  a  fresh 
start  in  new  and  spacious  squares,  wide  streets,  and  new 
buildings.  The  different  portions  of  it  are  known  as  the  old 
and  new  cities.  The  new  city  streets  are  open,  wide,  and 
airy,  with  broad  and  handsome  sidewalks ;  the  streets  of  the 
old  are  narrow  and  crooked,  with  no  sidewalk  or  curbstone. 
Our  hotel  —  the  Archduke  Charles  —  is  situated  on  a  street 


VIENNA.  471 

scarcely  wide  enough  for  two  vehicles  to  pass,  and  the  noise 
(for  it  is  always  crowded)  that  comes  up  between  the  tall 
buildings  is  almost  unbearable  in  warm  weather,  when  open 
casements  are  a  necessity.  Talk  of  the  crooked  streets  of 
Boston !  Why,  some  of  the  corkscrew  passages  of  the  old 
city  of  Vienna  will  wind  up  an  expert  Bostonian  into  a  most 
inexplicable  tangle. 

The  large,  new  streets,  however,  will,  in  time,  rival  the 
Boulevards  in  beauty  and  attractiveness.  Great  blocks  of 
buildings  are  built  on  the  Parisian  model,  elegant  restaurants 
and  stores,  with  plate  glass  windows,  rich  displays  of  goods, 
and  a  profusion  of  gas-jets,  give  quite  a  Paris  air  to  the  scene ; 
in  fact,  the  improvements  in  the  way  of  new  buildings  and  new 
streets,  not  only  here  but  in  Munich  and  other  cities,  seem  to 
be  after  the  Paris,  or  Haussman  model.  The  tourist  can 
hardly  help  thinking  that  Louis  Napoleon  made  his  influence 
to  be  felt  in  more  way^s  than  one,  and  has  taught  the  mon- 
archs  of  some  of  these  sleepy  old  empires  a  good  lesson  in 
widening,  enlarging,  and  beautifying  their  capitals,  making 
them  attractive  to  visit  and  pleasant  to  live  in,  and  to  realize 
that  it  is  money  in  their  purses,  or  those  of  their  subjects, 
— which  is  much  the  same, — to  render  their  cities  inviting  to 
the  hosts  of  travellers  who  traverse  the  continent,  and  to  in- 
duce them  to  remain  and  spend  money,  or  come  again  and 
spend  more. 

To  bona  fide  tourists  there  are  now  very  few  restrictions. 
Custom-house  examinations  are  a  mere  form ;  passports, 
except  in  the  intolerant  Roman  States,  are  never  called  for, 
and  admissions  to  galleries,  palaces,  or  collections,  which 
require  tickets  from  government  officials,  are  granted  to 
foreigners  without  restraint.  One  of  our  first  sight-seeing 
excursions  took  us  to  the  Imperial  Library  —  a  magnificent 
collection  of  books  and  manuscripts,  commenced  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  which  now  contains  nearly  three  hun- 
dred thousand  books,  and  over  sixteen  thousand  manuscripts, 
including  many  rare  literary  curiosities,  among  which  we  saw 
Charlemagne's  psalm  book ;  a  roll  of  hieroglyphics  on  skin, 


472  ROYAL    EEGALIA. 

sent  by  Cortes  from  Mexico  to  the  King  of  Spain ;  Tasso's 
own  manuscript  of  Jerusalem  Delivered  ;  the  Latin  Bible  of 
1462,  on  parchment;  elegant  illuminated  manuscripts  and 
parchment  volumes,  whose  exquisite  penmanship  and  still 
brilliant  colors  make  it  hard  to  believe  that  the  hands  that 
laboriously  fashioned  them,  in  shady  cloister  and  convent 
cell,  have  crumbled  into  undistinguishable  dust  hundreds  of 
years  ago. 

One  of  the  most  magnificent  collections  of  royal  jewelry  we 
have  ever  looked  upon  we  saw  at  the  Imperial  Treasury,  or 
Jewel  House.  Here  were  necklaces  of  diamonds  as  big  as 
filberts,  and  of  a  brilliancy  that  others  pale  before ;  a  bow-knot 
as  large  as  a  half  sheet  of  commercial  note-paper,  that  blazed 
like  fire  with  clear,  pure  diamonds;  great  crowns;  conquer- 
ors' wreaths  in  emeralds  and  diamonds;  royal  orders  and 
decorations  ;  magnificent  chains  and  collars  belonging  to  the 
dresses  of  various  orders  worn  by  the  emperor.  But  it  was 
not  only  the  sparkling  collection  of  gems  of  purest  ray  serene 
that  attracted  our  attention  —  the  curious  historic  relics  that 
are  preserved  here  are  of  great  value  and  interest.  Think  of 
standing  and  looking  upon  the  coronation  robe,  crown,  and 
sceptre  of  the  stout  old  Charlemagne  himself;  the  great  dia- 
mond worn  by  Charles  the  Bold  ;  the  robes  and  crown  worn  by 
Napoleon  at  his  coronation  at  Milan  ;  an  elegant  crucifix,  with 
the  wondrous  carving  and  chasing  of  that  renowned  artificer, 
Benvenuto  Cellini ;  a  collection  of  curious  watches  of  olden 
times,  the  "  Nuremburg  eggs  "  that  we  have  so  often  read  of. 
Besides  the  huge  falchion  of  Charlemagne,  we  were  shown 
the  sword  of  Maximilian  I.,  that  of  Francis  I.  of  France,  the 
scimeter  that  was  once  wielded  by  Tamerlane,  and  the  cele- 
brated iron  crown  of  Lombardy. 

I  cannot  besin  to  enumerate  the  stories  of  relics  connected 
with  the  history  of  Austria ;  the  wealth  of  cut  and  uncut 
jewels  which  we  were  hurried  through  by  the  thick-headed, 
stupid  guide,  who  recited  a  description  he  had  learned  by 
rote  in  the  most  monotonous  manner ;  who  was  utterly  una- 
ble to  answer  the  simplest  quesion,  and  only  went  from  one 


CABINET    OF   MINERALS.  473 

object  to  another  that  was  in  his  programme  of  performance, 
commencing  with  his  everlasting  "  Dies  is  der"  and  going  on 
with  a  monotonous  enumeration  of  facts,  running  his  words 
and  sentences  together,  like  a  state  official  repeating  a  for- 
mula. I  ought  not  to  omit  mentioning  that  they  have  several 
sacred  relics  here,  some  of  which  cannot  fail  to  excite  a  smile, 
and  others  such  as  tourists  always  expect  to  find  in  every 
collection.  Among  the  first  is  what  is  said  to  be  part  of  the 
table-cloth  used  at  the  Last  Supper !  The  visitor  is  not  ex- 
pected to  inquire  if  table-cloths  were  used  in  those  days,  or  he 
might  be  answered,  "  Of  course  they  were  ;  else  how  came  this 
piece  here  ?  "  The  piece  of  the  true  cross  is  here,  of  course, 
for  no  well-regulated  collection  of  relics  or  cathedral  is  com- 
plete  without  it ;  while  the  tooth  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  and 
leg  bone  of  St.  Anne  may  cause  some  unbelieving  Thomases 
to  wonder  how  long  these  mortuary  relics  can  be  kept  pre- 
served from  the  crumbling  touch  of  time. 

I  had  no  idea  what  an  intensely  curious  exhibition  a  cab- 
inet of  minerals  could  be,  till  I  stood  within  the  great  build- 
ing containing  the  collection  here,  which  is  in  a  series  of 
apartments  in  all  as  long  as  .Quincy  Market,  in  Boston,  and 
most  admirably  arranged  and  classified.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
whole  world  had  been  ransacked  for  specimens  in  every  nook 
and  corner,  from  the  frozen  regions  of  the  poles  to  the  coral 
caves  of  the  tropics ;  from  the  surface  to  the  centre ;  and  that 
geology  might  be  studied  here  by  illustration,  and  metallurgy 
and  mineralogy  thoroughly  learned  from  specimens,  so  nu- 
merous are  they,  and  so  perfectly  are  the  different  varieties 
and  branches  arranged. 

Here  are  marbles  from  every  part  of  the  world,  even 
Greenland ;  copper  from  the  slave-worked  mines  of  Siberia, 
and  the  prolific  pits  of  the  Lake  Superior  country,  in  frag- 
ments, dust,  ingots,  and  masses;  coal  bearing  the  familiar 
names  of  our  American  mines,  those  of  the  great  English 
pits,  and  specimens  from  China,  Japan,  Bohemia,  and  New 
Zealand ;  gold  in  all  its  curious  shapes,  as  found  in  rock  that 
showed  not  its  glitter,  and  in  the  smooth  nuggets  from  Cali- 


474  MINERAL    CURIOSITIES. 

fornia  and  Australia ;  the  less  precious,  but  not  less  useful 
iron,  from  every  part  of  the  globe ;  diamonds  from  Brazil ; 
agates ;  malachite  from  the  Ural  Mountains ;  crystals  from 
the  Alps ;  amethysts,  rubies,  and  uncut  gems,  plucked  from 
streams  or  rocky  prisons ;  silver  ore  from  the  mines  of  Po- 
tosi;  solid  lead  from  Great  Britain,  Spain,  and  America; 
tin,  cinnabar,  platina  —  till  it  seemed  that  every  known  metal, 
ore,  rock,  mineral,  or  gem,  from  every  quarter  of  the  world, 
had  its  representative  specimen  in  this  priceless  collection. 

Among  the  remarkable  curiosities  of  the  museum  were  the 
largest  opal  in  the  world,  —  as  large  as  a  man's  fist,  and 
weighing  seventeen  ounces,  —  too  big  for  the  breastpin  of 
the  most  ambitious  American  exj>ressnian  or  negro  minstrel ; 
a  great  rock  crystal,  as  big  as  a  man's  leg ;  a  great  bed  or 
mass  of  crystals,  four  and  a  half  feet  in  diameter ;  elegant 
specimens  of  uncut  gems  and  diamond  crystals ;  a  large  col- 
lection of  aerolites,  or  meteoric  stones,  which  have  fallen  in 
various  parts  of  the  world.  Among  the  most  curious  of 
these  is  one  mass  looking  like  melted  rock,  weighing  over  five 
hundred  pounds.  Then  there  are  curious  fossil  remains,  bird 
tracks,  and  ferns,  in  stone,  and  various  other  interesting  illus- 
trations of  geology.  A  very  costly  wonder  is  a  beautiful 
bouquet  of  flowers,  made  entirely  of  precious  stones,  for  the 
Empress  Maria  Theresa,  —  the  colors  of  leaves,  buds,  and 
petals  all  being  preserved  by  different-colored  gems,  —  a 
sparkling  but  scentless  nosegay.  This  superb  collection  is 
one  of  the  wonders  of  Vienna,  and  must  afford  an  admirable 
opportunity  to  students  and  others  engaged  in  the  study  of 
mineralogy,  &c,  numbers  of  whom  we  saw  in  different  de- 
partments, as  we  passed  through,  making  notes  and  exam- 
inations. 

A  museum  where  one  having  any  taste  for  antiquities  may 
positively  luxuriate,  is  the  Ambras  Museum  of  ancient  arms 
and  armor,  a  real,  authenticated  historical  collection,  —  armor 
that  had  actually  been  worn  and  fought  in  by  men  whose 
names  figure  in  history  hundreds  of  years  ago.  How  the 
antiquary  will  thank  the  old  Archduke  Ferdinand,  who  made 


THE    AMBRAS    MUSEUM.  475 

this  collection  in  1560,  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  interesting 
future  ages,  and  left  his  own  autographic  manuscripts  (still 
preserved),  authenticating  them  beyond  a  doubt. 

Three  large  rooms  of  six  in  the  museum  are  devoted  to 
the  collection  of  arms  and  armor.  Here  were  the  helmet  of 
Francis  I.,  of  France,  that  may  have  been  worn  in  his  battle 
with  his  warlike  opponent,  the  German  emperor,  Charles  V., 
or  at  his  meeting  with  Henry  VIII.  on  the  Field  of  the  Cloth 
of  Gold;  the  complete  armor,  for  man  and  horse,  of  the 
Emperor  Maximilian;  the  armor  of  Charles  V.;  that  of 
Philip  II.,  —  armor  that  he  may  have  ridden  in,  side  by  side 
with  his  English  wife,  Bloody  Mary;  the  dinted  armor  of 
that  fierce  warrior,  Don  John  of  Austria,  that  may  have 
shielded  its  owner  in  many  a  deadly  encounter;  a  magnifi- 
cent steel  suit,  fluted  with  gold,  belonging  to  the  Archbishop 
of  Salzburg ;  the  handsomely-wrought  steel  armor  of  Mau- 
rice, Elector  of  Saxony ;  a  whole  room  full  of  armor  suits 
and  weapons  used  at  tournaments  during  the  middle  ages ; 
the  elegant  suit  of  Alexander  Farnese,  of  Parma,  made  in 
1592,  of  great  beauty  of  workmanship,  and  which  would  put 
our  artificers  of  the  present  day  to  their  best  skill  to  rival. 
Here  are  the  battle-axe  of  Montezuma,  emperor  of  Mexico ; 
the  horse-tail  standards  captured  froni  the  Turks,  and  elegant 
swords  and  weapons  of  Italian  warriors,  rich  in  ornament 
and  chasing.  Of  these  interesting  memorials  of  ancient 
chivalry,  there  are  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  suits  of 
armor,  weapons,  &c.  —  historical  mementos  of  the  manners 
of  the  middle  ages. 


476  SUPEEB  MAUSOLEUM. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

On  our  first  Sunday  in  Vienna  we  attended  service  at  the 
Church  of  St.  Augustine,  the  chief  features  of  the  service 
being  the  splendid  robes  of  the  priests,  and  the  magnificent 
music  —  the  instrumental  portion,  in  addition  to  the  organ, 
being  the  full  orchestra  from  the  opera-house,  led  by  its 
leader,  baton  in  hand,  and  giving  some  of  the  compositions 
of  the  great  composers  in  a  style  that  made  the  lofty  arches 
of  the  old  church  to  seem  filled  with  heavenly  melody.  In 
this  church  is  Canova's  superb  monument  to  the  Arch, 
duchess  Christiana,  a  marble  pyramid  thirty  feet  high,  upon 
a  broad  marble  pedestal,  with  two  wide  steps.  In  the  centre 
of  this  pyramid,  designed  to  represent  the  tomb,  is  a  door, 
and  grouped  upon  the  steps,  on  their  way  towards  it,  are  sev- 
eral life-sized  allegorical  figures,  most  exquisitely  wrought. 
A  female  figure,  in  flowing  drapery,  bearing  a  flower-wreathed 
urn,  with  a  child  walking  on  either  side  of  her,  followed  by 
another  figure,  Benevolence,  supporting  by  the  arm  Old  Age, 
a  bent,  decrepit,  tottering  old  man  leaning  upon  a  staff,  are 
the  figures  on  one  side ;  while  upon  the  other  reposes  a  lion, 
with  an  angel  seated  by  his  side,  and  half  reclining  upon  his 
rugged  mane.  The  white,  flowing  drapery  of  these  figures 
is  so  beautifully  wrought  as  to  fairly  rival  reality,  and  the 
figure  of  Old  Age,  with  tottering  limbs,  weary  face,  and 
relaxed  muscles,  a  j^erfect  masterpiece  of  art.  The  angel, 
reclining  upon  the  lion,  is  a  figure  of  exquisite  beauty,  while 
the  grouping  of  the  whole,  and  the  natural  positions  of  the 
figures,  render  the  composition  both  apt  and  beautiful. 

At  the  Capuchin  Church  we  went  down  into  the  vault  of 
the  imperial  family,  under  the  guidance  of  a  sandalled  friar, 
torch  in  hand.  Here  rest  the  mortal  remains  of  royalty,  in 
seventy  great  metallic  coffins  or  sarcophagi,  —  the  oldest  that 


THE    STRAUSS    BAND.  477 

of  Ferdinand,  1610,  and  the  most  splendid  being  that  of 
Joseph  I.,  which  has  over  two  thousand  pounds  of  silver 
about  it,  wrought  into  armorial  bearings,  crowns,  death's 
heads,  wreaths  of  flowers,  and  other  designs.  The  rest  are 
cbicfly  wrought  from  zinc  into  the  forms  of  mortuary  caskets, 
with  appropriate  designs. 

While  the  group  of  visitors  were  tediously  following  the 
monotonous  description  of  the  friar,  I  unconsciously  seated 
myself  upon  the  end  of  one  of  these  ornamented  chests  of 
human  ashes,  from  which,  when  discovered,  I  was  requested 
to  rise  by  an  indignant  wave  of  the  hand,  and  a  look  upon 
the  friar's  face  that  savored  strongly  of  indignation,  as  he  ap- 
proached the  spot  with  the  party,  and  commenced  his  descrip- 
tion. Then  it  was  I  discovered  that  I  had  been  making  my 
seat  of  the  funeral  casket  of  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt,  son  of 
the  great  Napoleon ;  and  near  by  we  saw  that  of  the  Emperor 
Francis,  his  grandfather. 

From  this  gloomy  chamber  of  dead  royalty,  we  were  glad 
once  more  to  emerge  to  the  busy  street  and  to  close  the  day's 
sight-seeing  by  a  visit  to  a  musical  festival  given  in  an  im- 
mense garden  just  outside  the  city,  called,  I  think,  the  New 
World  Garden.  The  occasion  being  the  Virgin's  birthday, 
there  was  an  extra  attraction ;  first  there  was  the  splendid 
Strauss  band,  about  seventy  pieces,  led  by  Strauss  himself; 
then  two  large  military  bands,  and  these  played  alternately, 
and  such  music !  The  Strauss  waltzes  and  dance  music  were 
given  with  a  "  voluptuous  swell,"  precision,  and  beauty  that 
were  enchanting  to  listen  to.  They  were  liquid  billows  of 
harmony,  and  as  inspiriting  to  the  feet  of  the  dancers  as  a 
draught  of  nitrous  oxide  to  the  imagination.  The  volup- 
tuous waltz  ceased,  the  military  band  would  then  burst  forth 
with  grand  march  or  quickstep  that  would  make  one's  very 
pulses  thrill,  and  when  this  closed,  the  other  band  gave  an 
overture  or  grand  musical  composition,  which  concluded,  the 
lively  dance  music  of  Strauss  again  burst  forth  with  its  exhil- 
arating strains. 

There  were  three  or  four  thousand  persons  present  stroll- 


478 


THE    SUMMER   PALACE. 


ing  through  the  pleasant  walks  and  shady  alleys,  or  sitting 
at  the  tables  near  the  music  pavilions  eating  ices,  drinldno- 
light  wines  or  beer,  chatting,  and  listening  to  the  music.  The 
price  of  admission  to  the  regular  concerts  of  the  Strauss  band 
here  is  about  eighteen  cents!  But  to  this  entertainment, 
which  was  an  extra  occasion,  or  a  sort  of  a  fete  day,  the  en- 
ormous fee  of  nearly  thirty  cents  was  demanded !  The  excel- 
lence of  the  music  as  well  as  the  cheapness  of  the  entertain- 
ment, was  marvellous  to  us  Americans. 

It  is  a  pleasant  excursion  to  the  Schonbrunn,  or  summer 
palace,  and  the  gardens  connected  with  it,  about  three  miles 
from  Vienna.  These  gardens  on  fine  Sunday  afternoons  are 
thronged  with  people  from  the  city,  strolling  through  their 
shady  alleys  and  beautiful  walks.  The  shrubbery  and  land- 
scape gardening  here  are  great  curiosities;  long,  straight 
avenues  are  laid  out,  with  the  trees  on  each  side  trimmed 
like  hedges  to  the  height  of  thirty  or  forty  feet,  presenting  a 
perspective  of  an  avenue  as  smooth  and  unbroken  as  if  sliced 
out  of  a  solid  mass  of  green,  with  a  keen  blade ;  then  the 
masses  of  foliage  are  trimmed  into  niches  for  marble  statues, 
graceful  curves,  and  columns,  and  curious  walks.  The  flower- 
gardens  of  the  palace  were  beautiful,  and  the  hot-houses  rich 
in  great  palms  and  other  tropical  wonders ;  there  were  quite 
a  number,  some  dozen  or  more,  of  these  conservatories,  each 
devoted  to  different  varieties  of  plants,  a  description  of  which 
would  be  wearisome.  As  some  of  the  royal  family  were  at 
the  palace  we  could  not  visit  the  interior,  but  passing  through 
the  gardens,  Ave  ascended  to  the  Gloriette,  a  sort  of  open  tem- 
ple with  a  colonnade  of  pillars,  situated  upon  rising  ground, 
and  commanding  a  fine. view  of  Vienna  and  the  surrounding 
country,  including  the  battle-fields  of  Aspern  and  Wagram. 

The  Imperial  Picture  Gallery  of  Vienna  is  a  collection  of 
paintings  worth  a  journey  over  the  ocean  to  see  —  rich  in  the 
masterpieces  of  the  old  masters,  and  containing  in  all  about 
two  thousand  pictures,  which  are  arranged  in  different  apart- 
ments according  to  the  school  of  art  to  which  they  belong. 
Here,  again,  we  were  bewildered  with  a  wealth  of  beauty : 


THE    IMPERIAL    GALLERY.  479 

here  one  begins  to  realize  what  wonders  the  painter's  brush 
is  capable  of;  what  laborious  finishers  the  old  masters  were ; 
how  very  little  advance,  if  any  at  all,  has  been  made  in  the 
art ;  what  skill  must  have  been  used  in  the  manufacture  and 
laying  on  of  colors  which,  after  the  lapse  of  two  or  three  hun- 
dred years,  are  as  fresh,  bright  and  effective  as  if  but  yester- 
day applied  to  the  canvas. 

It  would  be  like  enumeration  by  catalogue  to  give  the 
list  of  pictures  that  we  have  pencilled  notes  of  admiration 
against ;  but  only  think  of  seeing  elegant  pictures  from  the 
pencils  of  Paul  Veronese,  Titian,  Raphael,  Guido,  Correggio, 
Murillo,  Rembrandt,  Cuyp,  Poussin,  Vandyke,  Rubens,  Teni- 
ers,  Albert  Diirer,  Van  Eyck,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  Gerard  Dow, 
and  Schneyders!  Why,  after  going  through  this  gallery, 
having  seen  that  at  Munich,  it  seemed  as  if  we  had  seen  the 
originals  of  half  of  all  the  engravings  and  copies  of  great 
works  that  we  have  ever  looked  upon ;  and  as  in  other  gal- 
leries, we  found  the  longest  time  we  could  possibly  give  to 
it  allowed  us  only  a  glance,  comparatively  speaking,  at  its 
treasures. 

There  was  Titian's  Ecce  Homo,  a  masterpiece  of  artistic 
skill  that  one  wanted  hours  to  study;  the  Entombment, 
and  his  beautiful  figure  of  Danae ;  Correggio's  elegant  picture 
of  Christ  and  the  Woman  of  Samaria ;  Guido's  Holy  Family 
—  a  room  entirely  filled  with  the  works  of  that  industrious 
artist,  Rubens,  among  which  was  his  Assumption  of  the  Vir- 
gin, Loyola  casting  out  Evil  Spirits,  and  Xavier  healing  the 
Sick.  Teniers  also  had  a  room,  among  which  his  Peasants' 
Marriage,  and  Village  Fete,  were  conspicuous  ;  Albert  Diirer's 
Martyrdom  of  Ten  Thousand  Christians  —  a  wonderful  work, 
in  which  every  form  of  torture  and  death  seemed  to  have 
been  represented ;  a  student  for  the  torture  chamber  of  the 
Holy  Inquisition  might  have  obtained  new  ideas  by  studying 
it;  Diirer's  magnificent  picture  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd  of  saints,  cherubs,  and  angels  —  a  repre- 
sentation in  which  perfect  finish  in  all  the  details  of  features 
and  heavenly  beauty  was  marvellously  executed ;  Paul  Ver- 


480  VIENNA  LEATHER-WORK. 

onese's  Holy  Family,  and  two  splendid  battle-pieces  by  Sal- 
vator  Rosa. 

In  the  modern  gallery  there  were  also  many  wonderfully 
beautiful  works  of  art  —  a  fearfully  real  picture  of  the  Mas- 
sacre of  the  Innocents,  by  Charles  Arrienti;  a  wonderfully 
funny  one  of  Mis  chief-Makers  in  an  Artist's  Studio,  by  Jo- 
seph Danhauser —  a  picture  that  will  make  one  laugh  aloud  ; 
a  fine  picture  of  the  Adieu  of  a  soldier  of  the  Austrian 
Landwehr  to  his  wife  and  children  —  figures  all  of  life-size, 
painted  by  Pierre  Krafft ;  a  sortie  of  a  garrison  against  Turk- 
ish assailants  —  a  great  painting  crowded  with  figures  in  the 
most  spirited  action,  and  all  beautifully  finished  by  the  same 
artist ;  Shnorr's  Mephistophiles  appearing  to  Faust  —  an  ele- 
gant and  effective  composition ;  Grand  Canal  of  Venice,  by 
Schoefft  —  a  lovely  scene.  And  so  it  continued  —  great  battle- 
pieces  with  life-like  warriors,  with  weapons  and  mail  strik- 
ingly like  reality;  lovely  landscapes  that  filled  one  with 
admiration  to  gaze  upon ;  religious  subjects,  on  which  the 
loftiest  art  and  the  sublimest  conceptions  were  exhausted; 
wonderful  trickery  of  art  in  some  compositions ;  quiet  beauty 
in  others,  that  drew  the  beholder,  again  and  again,  back  to 
gaze  upon  them,  till,  with  aching  limbs  and  fatigued  vertebrae, 
we  closed  our  first  visit  to  this  glorious  collection,  with  the 
thought  of  how  discouraging  is  the  effort  to  attempt,  in  a  day 
or  two,  that  over  which  weeks,  and  even  months,  might  be 
used  with  pleasure  and  intellectual  profit. 

Tourists,  who  arc  always  buying  something  in  every  Euro- 
pean capital  they  visit,  find  the  beautiful  fancy  goods  shops 
and  Vienna  goods  potent  attractions.  It  is  in  this  city  that 
all  the  beautiful  leather-work,  known  as  Russia  leather,  is 
manufactured,  its  deep-red  stain  and  peculiar  perfume  as 
fascinating  as  the  many-colored  hues  and  glossy  surface  of 
fresh  kid  gloves,  or  the  fragrance  of  the  leaves  of  a  new 
volume,  to  the  purchaser.  Travelling  satchels  of  this  material, 
which  at  home  are  an  extravagant  luxury,  are  here  obtainable 
at  less  than  half  the  American  price.  Then  the  leather  is 
wrought  in  a  hundred  fanciful  ways :  it  appears  in  trunks ; 


SHOPS    AND   TUICES.  481 

portfolios  soft,  elegant,  and  portable;  pocket-books  smooth 
and  elastic ;  work-boxes,  hat-boxes,  covered  smelling-bottles, 
flasks,  and  canes;  in  watch-chains  or  portable  inkstands,  whip- 
stocks,  boots  and  shoes,  elegantly  mounted  horse  harnesses ; 
and,  in  fact,  in  about  every  way  it  can  be  used  to  court  the 
eye  and  be  of  service. 

The  meerschaum  pipe  stores  of  Vienna  must  make  a 
smoker  half  crazy  with  delight ;  and  indeed,  to  those  who  do 
not  use  the  weed,  their  windows  are  among  the  most  attrac- 
tive upon  the  great  streets,  from  the  ingenuity  and  skill  dis- 
played in  the  innumerable  forms  into  which  pipe  bowls  are 
carved.  The  most  artistic  skill  and  elaborate  workmanship 
appear  to  have  been  expended  upon  these  pipes,  and  the 
great  pipe  stores  vie  with  each  other  in  displaying  in  their 
windows  specimens  of  delicate  carvings  and  curious  designs, 
beautiful  amber  mouth-pieces,  tobacco-boxes,  pouches,  and 
the  smoker's  paraphernalia.  An  American  rarely  leaves 
Vienna  without  some  of  its  meerschaums  in  his  baggage. 
Gentlemen's  clothing,  excellently  made  to  order,  can  be 
bought  here  at  astonishingly  low  prices,  and  the  ladies  find 
fans,  fancy  goods,  and  laces  to  be  not  so  dear  as  in  Paris. 

The  prices  at  the  leading  hotels  are  rather  high,  but  the 
cuisine  is  unexceptionable,  and  Vienna  bread  the  best  in  the 
world.  Once  eaten,  the  traveller  will  establish  it  as  his  stan- 
dard of  excellence.  It  is  snowy  white,  without  flake,  fine- 
grained, has  a  light,  brown,  crisp  crust,  no  particle  of  flavor 
of  yeast,  gas,  or  acidity,  but  a  fragrance  of  purity  and  sweet- 
ness, and  the  dyspeptic  may  devour  the  delicious,  round 
breakfast  rolls,  almost  in  any  quantity,  with  impunity.  Most 
Americans  are  astonished  to  find  what  a  luxurious  repast  can 
be  made  from  mere  bread  and  butter  in  Vienna. 

Vienna  appears  more  like  London  and  Paris  than  other 
European  capitals.  Its  brilliant  cafes,  shops,  and  the  elegant 
new  Boulevards,  recently  completed,  give  it  quite  the  air  of 
Paris ;  and  so  also  do  the  numerous  amusements,  out-of-door 
concerts,  and  musical  entertainments,  together  with  the  gen- 
eral pleasure -seeking  character  of  the  people.  Among  the 
31 


482  IN   A   QUANDARY. 

fine  promenades  just  out  of  the  city  is  one  known  as  the 
Prater,  near  the  River  Danube,  a  favorite  resort  of  fashion 
and  aristocracy,  where  we  saw  a  brilliant  display  of  elegant 
carriages  and  gayly-dressed  occupants;  equestrians,  out  to 
display  their  elegant  horses,  and  their  own  horsemanship; 
Austrian  officers,  in  their  rich  uniforms,  and  pedestrians,  out 
for  an  afternoon  lounge  and  enjoyment  of  the  gay  scene. 

We  stopped  en  route  to  Venice,  by  rail,  at  Adelsberg, 
rJbout  fifty  miles  from  Trieste,  and  which  we  were  told  by 
certain  Americans  to  be  sure  and  visit,  as  its  grotto,  the  Cave 
of  Adelsberg,  was  one  of  the  wonders  of  Europe ;  and,  for 
once,  we  found  the  assertion  to  be  correct,  for,  after  a  visit  to 
it,  we  classed  in  our  mind  as  among  the  wonders  we  had 
seen,  thus :  the  Alps,  Milan  Cathedral,  and  the  Grotto  of 
Adelsberg. 

It  is  an  odd  experience  to  arrive  in  a  foreign  country  at  a 
railroad  station  at  nine  o'clock  at  night,  and  yourself  and 
companion  the  only  persons  who  leave  the  train,  finding,  on 
looking  about  you,  after  it  has  whizzed  away  into  the  dark- 
ness, that  the  five  or  six  officials  in  attendance  cannot  under- 
stand a  word  of  English,  and  that  their  language  is  equally 
unintelligible  to  you.  However,  travel  sharpens  one's  wits, 
and  by  sign  language,  and  the  pronouncing  of  the  name  of 
the  hotel  mentioned  in  our  guide-book,  "  TIngarish  Krone? 
we  managed  to  make  the  somewhat  stolid  officials  under- 
stand that  we  wished  to  go  to  that  place.  But  now  a  new 
difficulty  seemed  to  arise,  and  an  animated  palaver  took 
place,  with  the  ^accompaniment  of  various  shrugs,  gesticula- 
tions, and  contortions  of  visage,  which  really  seemed  to  por- 
tend something  serious,  but  which  turned  out  to  be  that,  as 
we  had  arrived  on  a  train  that  very  seldom  set  down  any 
passengers  there,  there  was  no  means  of  conveyance  to  the 
hotel,  and  we  must  walk. 

A  guide,  with  a  hand  wagon  bearing  our  luggage,  accord- 
ingly started,  and  we  trudged  after  him  in  the  darkness.  No, 
not  darkness ;  for  during  our  detention  the  moon  had  risen, 
and  our  journey  to  the  old-fashioned,  quaint-looking  village, 


EXTRICATED.  483 

and  through  the  court-yard  of  the  Hungarian  Crown  Hotel, 
was  less  disagreeable  than  it  might  have  been.  Arrived  at 
the  hotel,  a  new  difficulty  arose.  The  landlord  spoke  only 
Italian  and  a  patois  of  German,  which  was  Dutch  to  us,  and 
was  vexed  at  being  disturbed  from  a  grand  exhibition,  which 
was  in  progress  in  his  dining-room,  of  feats  of  jugglery,  and 
elocutionary  exercises  by  two  itinerant  performers. 

Gratifying  was  it  to  have  a  young  Italian  girl  at  this  Adels- 
berg  hostelry  come  out  from  tbe  crowd,  —  not  one  of  whom 
seemed  to  speak  English  or  French,  —  speak  perfect  English 
to  us,  and  translate  our  wants  to  the  landlord.  And  gratify- 
ing was  it  to  our  national  pride  to  see  what  alacrity  the  an- 
nouncement that  we  were  Americans  put  into  his  step,  and 
the  speed  of  his  preparations ;  for  in  less  than  half  an  hour 
we  had  been  provided  with  an  excellent  apartment,  and  were 
sitting  at  a  little  supper  table  at  one  end  of  the  salle  a  man- 
ger, enjoying  tea,  chops,  and  other  creature  comforts.  At 
the  same  time,  a  magician  was  performing  in  the  room  to  an 
audience  of  fifty  or  sixty,  whose  costume,  conversation,  and 
manners  were  to  us  the  most  interesting  part  of  it.  We  also 
found  ourselves  to  be  somewhat  of  a  curiosity  to  the  audi- 
tors, while  the  young  Italian  who  could  converse  with  us  in 
our  own  tongue,  having  formerly  been  lady's  maid  in  an  Eng- 
lish family,  found  herself  quite  distinguished,  on  account  of 
her  accomplishment,  among  her  friends,  who  crowded  around 
her,  and,  as  we  afterwards  learned,  plied  her  with  innumera- 
ble questions  about  the  Americans  and  their  distant  country. 

Being  the  only  foreigners  in  the  place  desirous  of  visiting 
the  cave  the  next  morning,  we  were  obliged  to  pay  the  same 
expense  that  would  have  been  required  of  a  party  of  a  dozen. 
The  cave  is  the  property  of  the  government,  and  there  is  a 
regular  tariff  of  charges,  according  to  the  grade  of  illumina- 
tion,—  that  is,  the  number  of  candles  used  in  displaying  the 
halls  and  grottos;  for  a  goodly  quantity  are  required  to 
even  partially  display  its  wonders.  The  grand  illumination, 
"  utterly  regardless,"  we  declared  against ;  so  also  did  we  the 
cheap  third  and  fourth  rate,  but  decided  upon  the  second, 


484  THE    CAVE    OF   ADELSBERG. 

involving  an  expense  of  about  twelve  dollars  and  a  half,  and 
six  guides. 

Our  former  experiences  in  caves,  mines,  ruins,  and  grottos 
have  always  necessitated  a  change  of  costume,  a  donning  of 
rubber  coats,  overalls,  old  bats,  or  overshoes.  Consequently 
we  were  a  little  incredulous  at  the  assertion  that,  with  the 
exception  of  tolerably  stout  shoes,  nothing  more  than  an 
ordinary  costume  was  necessary.  We  entered  this  wonderful 
cavern  directly  from  the  road,  walking  into  it  as  into  an 
arched  excavation  in  a  hill-side.  Four  of  our  six  guides  had 
preceded  us,  and  kept  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  advance, 
with  their  satchels  of  candles  and  torches,  to  illuminate  the 
great  halls  and  chambers  on  our  approach ;  while  the  other 
two,  one  of  whom,  to  our  joy,  spoke  French,  accompanied  us 
with  torches,  to  guide  us,  and  point  out  the  curiosities  and 
wonders  of  the  place.  The  cavern  is  miles  in  extent.  And 
let  not  the  reader  imagine  any  damp,  dirty  hole  in  the  earth, 
with  muddy  soil  and  dripping  roof,  or  a  squeezing  through 
of  nai-row,  dangerous  passages,  clambering  over  obstacles,  or 
anything  of  the  kind ;  for,  with  the  exception  of  the  damp 
sand  of  a  shallow  sti*eam,  for  twenty  yards  near  the  very 
entrance,  the  walking  was  as  dry  and  free  from  absolute  dis- 
comforts as  a  city  street. 

Three  hours'  walk  through  the  bowels  of  the  earth  re- 
vealed to  us  that  there  were  as  wondrous  beauties  below  as 
above  the  earth ;  for  we  passed  through  great  natural  Gothic- 
passages,  almost  as  natural  as  if  shaped  by  the  builder's 
hands,  forests  and  clusters  of  columns  glittering  with  fantastic 
ornament.  We  emerged  into  a  great  dome-like  apartment, 
bis:  enough  to  set  Boston  State  House  down  in  its  centre,  and 
leave  room  to  spare.  This  our  guides  had  illumined  with  the 
candles  placed  in  every  direction,  and  the  effect  upon  the 
glittering  stalactites  and  stalagmites,  frosted  as  they  were 
with  flashing  crystals,  was  as  if  we  stood  in  a  vast  hall  of 
diamonds,  sparkling  around  in  every  direction. 

On  we  went,  amid  pillars,  arches,  and  sj)ires.  Here  was  a 
great  dome,  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  feet  high,  the  guides 


UNDERGROUND    WONDERS.  485 

told  us,  spangled,  as  far  up  as  we  could  see,  with  a  perfect 
blaze  of  sparkling  particles,  reflecting  back  the  light  of  the 
numerous  candles,  like  a  roof  crusted  with  gems.  Anothei 
great  hall  was  shaped  like  a  huge  theatre.  Right  through 
the  centre,  where  should  be  the  parquet,  rushed  a  swift, 
silent,  black  river —  the  Poick ;  a  natural  stone  bridge  formed 
the  orchestra ;  beyond  it,  a  great  platform  of  rock,  the  stage ; 
two  semicircular  ledges  of  rock  opposite  were  the  two  rows 
of  dress  circle  and  boxes ;  only  this  great  theatre  was  double, 
yes,  treble  the  size  of  a  real  one. 

Our  guides  had  placed  a  double  row  of  lights  over  the 
orchestral  bridge,  which  were  reflected  on  the  black  stream 
beneath.  Another  row  represented  the  stage  lights.  Two 
more  rows  ran  round  stone  balconies  where  we  stood,  while 
the  illusion  is  heightened  by  an  extemporized  chandelier, 
made  from  hogshead  hoops,  filled  with  rows  of  candles,  and 
swung  out  by  means  of  a  wooden  crane  into  the  centre. 

The  effect  was  magnificent  and  indescribable. 

Another  great  hall  was  designated  "  Mount  Calvary,"  and 
was  a  succession  of  gradual  ascents,  past  stalactite  columns 
by  a  winding  pathway,  to  a  summit  where  were  three  forma- 
tions of  the  rock,  which,  by  an  effort  of  the  imagination, 
might  represent  the  group  at  our  Saviour's  crucifixion.  This 
magnificent  hall,  like  the  others,  blazed  with  sparkling 
particles,  Avas  rich  in  white,  marble-like  columns,  clustered 
pillars,  wondrous  arches,  and  semi-transparent  sheets  of 
cream-colored  rock.  Another  hall,  wThen  lighted,  seemed  a 
realization  of  those  "fairy  grottos,"  "abode  of  elves,"  or 
"  home  of  the  sea-nymphs,"  which  we  see  represented  upon 
the  stage  of  the  theatre ;  for  it  was  a  wilderness  of  fret-work, 
pretty  arches,  open,  lace-work  sort  of  rock  screens,  slender 
spires,  alabaster-like  pillars,  and  all  glittering  and  flashing 
with  the  alum-like,  crystal-sparkling  particles  of  the  forma- 
tion which  is  found  in  these  caverns. 

Passing  from  hall  to  hall,  we  encounter  numerous  curious 
and  astonishingly  natural  formations.  There  were  statues, 
petrified  waterfalls,  a  torrent  in  full  career  turned  into  ala- 


486  nature's  imitation  of  art. 

baster;  towers,  one  the  leaning  tower  of  Pisa,  fifteen  feet 
high,  a  very  good  representation ;  columns  as  transparent  as 
an  alabaster  vase ;  ruined  castles,  thirty  feet  high,  with  battle- 
ments and  turrets ;  a  splendid  pulpit,  grand  throne,  a  butch- 
er's shop  with  joints  hanging  from  its  beams ;  and  a  prison 
with  its  grated  window,  all  in  white  stone.  Here  we  came 
to  great  white  curtains  of  rock,  a  dozen  yards  high  and  half 
that  width,  no  thicker  than  the  hand,  which  when  struck  with 
a  wooden  mallet  bounded  like  a  cathedral  bell ;  then  we  came 
to  a  place  like  the  sea-beach,  where  it  seemed  as  if  the  slow 
in-coming  waves,  as  they  washed  upon  the  sands,  had  felt 
the  stony  touch  that  had  transformed  all  —  for  there  were  the 
little  rippling  waves  in  solid  alabaster,  caught  in  their  retreat, 
with  all  the  little  eddies  and  foam-whirls  as  they  were  sliding 
back  to  the  surf  that  sent  them  in,  and  held  solid  and  immova- 
ble. Upon  one  huge  crag  of  rock  sat  quite  a  shapely  eagle, 
and  from  another  drooped  a  huge  flag  in  snowy  folds,  and 
beneath  it,  rising  as  if  to  grasp  it,  reached  up  a  Titanic  hand ; 
then  came  a  tall  palm  tree,  next  a  broom  of  stone  big  enough 
for  a  giant ;  a  lion's  head  looking  over  a  jutting  crag,  and  yew 
trees  by  the  path  side,  besides  many  other  objects,  some  most 
wonderfully  natural  in  appearance,  and  others  requiring  the 
exercise  of  a  lively  imagination  to  see  the  representation. 

The  last  grand  apartment  in  this  wonderful  cave  was  the 
state  ball-room,  a  beautiful  circular-formed  apartment,  with 
its  centre  clear  and  unobstructed,  affording  ample  space  for 
dancers,  who  use  it  once  a  year,  on  Whit-Sunday,  when  a 
grand  ball,  with  full  orchestra,  is  given  there.  This  apart- 
ment contains  a  natural  formation  for  the  orchestra,  an  ele- 
gant rocky  seat  as  a  throne,  and  tiers  of  seats,  rows  of  spar- 
kling columns  about  its  sides,  and  elegant  rocky  fret-work  far 
above.  The  effect  of  the  illumination  here,  as  in  other  apart- 
ments, was  dazzlingly  beautiful. 

After  our  three  hours'  walk,  which  was  through  a  succes- 
sion of  natural  wonders,  we  emerged  again  into  daylight  from 
this  Aladdin  cavern.  The  whole  of  the  journey  was,  with  the 
exception  of  a  dozen  yards,  over  walks  as  dry  as  a  floor,  and 


VENICE.  487 

through  passages  twenty  feet  and  more  wide,  and  from  twenty 
to  two  hundred  and  more  feet  in  height.  This  subterranean 
wonder,  we  were  informed,  and  we  also  saw  by  the  traveller's 
register,  but  comparatively  few  Americans  see ;  but  it  is  a 
sight  that  none  should  miss.  It  may  be  "done"  by  stopping 
over  half  a  day  on  the  railroad  between  Vienna  and  Venice, 
or  can  be  reached  by  riding  out  from  Trieste  by  rail,  a  dis- 
tance of  fifty  miles. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

We  found  ourselves  early  in  the  morning,  after  an  all-night 
ride,  running  over  a  flat,  marshy,  sea-shore-looking  country, 
approaching  Venice.  Venice  !  There  was  something  magi- 
cal in  the  sound  of  that  name,  as  conjuring  up  memories  of 
school-boy  dreams  and  youthful  imagination,  equal  in  effect  to 
the  sonorous  boom  of  the  word  London,  that  fills  the  fancy 
like  the  tone  of  a  great  cathedral  bell,  when  Ave  felt  we  were 
actually  to  set  foot  in  that  great  city,  which  historian,  poet, 
and  novelist  had  made  us  hunger  to  see  for  so  many  years. 

Venice,  the  scene  of  so  much  of  Byron's  poetry ;  Venice, 
that  Rogers  sang  of;  Venice,  with  its  Doges,  its  Council  of 
Ten,  its  terrible  dungeons ;  Venice,  the  Merchant  of  Venice 
—  we  should  see  the  very  bridge  that  old  Shylock  met  An- 
tonio upon ;  Venice,  with  its  great  state  barges  and  the  Doge 
marrying  the  Adriatic ;  Venice,  with  its  canals,  having  those 
water  parties  in  gondolas  that  we  see  in  engravings  represent- 
ing ladies  and  gentlemen  in  silk  and  velvet  attire,  with  fruit, 
wine,  and  musical  instruments  before  them,  and  broad,  em- 
broidered table  clothing  dragging  from  the  boatside  into  the 
water. 

The  Venice  of  Shakespeare  and  Byron,  and  Rogers  and 

Cooper,  — 

"Beautiful  Venice,  the  Bride  of  the  Sea." 


488  NOVEL    SIGHTS. 

We  rolled  in  on  our  train  over  the  great  railroad  bridge, 
of  two  miles  in  length,  which  spans  the  lagoon,  and  enters 
Venice  on  the  Island  of  St.  Lucia.  This  bridge  is  fourteen 
feet  wide,  and  upheld  by  two  hundred  and  twenty-two  arches, 
and  its  foundation  is,  of  course,  built  upon  piles  driven  into 
the  muddy  bed  of  the  lagoon. 

We  halt  in  a  great  railway  station,  a  conductor  pokes  his 
head  into  the  railway  carriage,  and  ejaculates,  "Ven-neat- 
sear"  and  we  are  at  Venice. 

Following  the  advice  of  an  old  tourist,  we  had  telegraphed 
to  the  Hotel  Danieli  that  we  were  coming,  and  to  have  a  con- 
veyance ready  at  the  station.  We  were,  therefore,  prepared, 
by  our  former  experience  in  Vienna,  for  the  gentlemanly  per- 
sonage who  addressed  us  in  English,  on  alighting,  to  the 
effect  that  he  had  a  gondola  in  waiting  to  convey  us  to  the 
hotel.  Our  luggage  was  soon  obtained,  and  safely  stowed  in 
the  bottom  of  the  long,  black  craft,  with  its  two  oarsmen, 
one  at  each  end ;  and  in  another  moment,  propelled  by  their 
measured  and  powerful  strokes,  we  were  gliding  over  the 
great  canals  of  Venice,  and  having  our  first  ride  in  a  gondola. 

The  novel  sight  of  tall  marble  buildings,  rising  directly 
from  out  the  water;  the  numerous  gondolas  gliding  hither 
and  thither ;  the  great  reaches  of  canals,  or  alleys  of  water, 
stretching  up  between  marble  buildings ;  the  light  iron  lattice- 
work bridges ;  painted  gondola  posts ;  the  slowly  crumbling 
and  time-defaced  fronts  of  many  an  ancient  palace ;  the  stal- 
wart gondoliers,  and  their  warning  shouts  at  the  canal  corners, 
—  were  all  novelties  on  this  our  first  gondola  ride,  till  we  ar- 
rived at  the  hotel,  once  the  palace  of  the  Danieli  family,  and 
which  we  found  fronted  on  the  grand  canal,  and  but  a  short 
distance  from  the  Square  and  Church  of  St.  Mark,  Doge's 
Palace,  &c. 

Every  traveller  and  letter-writer  tells  about  the  gondolas 
and  the  gondoliers,  and  some  sentimental  scribblers  do  draw 
the  long-bow  terribly  about  them.  The  long,  low  water  craft, 
with  their  easy,  comfortable,  morroco  cushions,  upon  which 
you  might  sit  or  recline  at  full  length,  and  be  either  hidden 


GONDOLAS  AND  GONDOLIERS.  480 

or  exposed  to  view,  as  suits  the  taste,  with  their  gentle,  almost 
imperceptible  motion,  I  found  to  be  the  most  luxurious  and 
lazy  mode  of  travel  I  ever  experienced.  But  let  not  the 
reader  understand  that  the  canals,  these  water  alleys  that 
slash  the  city  in  every  direction,  are  its  only  highways ;  one 
may  walk  all  over  Venice  on  foot,  although,  of  course,  in  pass- 
ing from  certain  points  to  others,  he  may  have  to  go  a  more 
roundabout  way  in  order  to  cross  the  bridges  than  he  would 
have  to  take  in  the  gondola. 

The  tall,  graceful  gondoliers  are  quite  a  study,  and  the 
marvellous  skill  with  which  they  manage  their  long  crafts  a 
wonder.  The  scientific  whirl  of  an  oar-blade,  a  mere  twist  of 
the  hand,  or  a  sort  of  geometric  figure  cut  in  the  water,  will^ 
wind  their  narrow  craft  in  and  out  a  crowd  of  others,  or  avoid 
collisions  that  seem  inevitable.  The  shout  of  warning  of  the 
gondolier  as  he  approaches  a  corner,  or  to  others  approach- 
ing, is  musically  Italian,  and  much  of  the  charm  undoubtedly 
comes  from  the  athletic  forms,  the  dark  Italian  faces,  deep 
black  eyes,  and  graceful  movements  of  the  rowers,  and  the 
swift  passage  of  their  mysterious  craft  past  tall  palaces,  flights 
of  marble  steps  sloping  down  to  the  shining  waters,  and 
graceful  bridges.  Yet  one  wants  to  be  on  the  larger  or 
broadest  canals  to  get  up  anything  like  poetic  fervor  in 
Venice,  and  then  in  sunlight,  or,  as  was  my  good  fortune, 
beneath  the  gorgeous  gilding  of  the  full  moon. 

When  your  gondola  takes  you  on  a  business  trip,  and  you 
turn  off  from  any  of  the  great  canals  upon  a  narrow  one  for 
a  short  cut,  in  fact,  leave  the  main  street  for  a  back  or  side 
one,  you  become  aware  that  there  is  something  besides  poetry 
in  the  canals  of  Venice.  The  water,  which  was  bright  and 
shining  in  the  sunlight,  becomes,  when  shut  up  between  tall 
buildings,  like  a  great  puddle  in  a  cellar,  or  the  dark  pool  in 
an  abandoned  mine;  foul  greenness  and  slime  stick  to  the 
walls  of  old  buildings  and  decaying  palaces,  fragments  of  sea- 
weed and  other  debris  float  here  and  there,  the  perfume  is 
not  of  "  Araby  the  Blest,"  and  the  general  watery  flavor  of 
everything  causes  one  to  appreciate  the  Western  American's 


490  SCENE    OF    ENCHANTMENT. 

criticism  as  to  what  sort  of  a  place  he  found  Venice,  who  re- 
plied, "Damp,  sir;  very  damp." 

Dreamily  floating  upon  the  Grand  Canal,  however,  beneath 
the  full  moon  of  autumn,  with  the  ducal  palace  and  its  point- 
ed arches  and  columns,  making  a  beautiful  picture  of  light 
and  shade;  the  tall  pillars,  bearing  St.  Theodore  and  the 
Winged  Lion,  shooting  up  to  the  deep-blue  sky,  their  sum- 
mits tipped  with  silver  in  the  beam ;  the  tall  obelisk  of  the 
Campanile  rising  in  the  background  like  a  sentinel ;  the  canal 
between  the  palace  and  the  prison,  like  a  stream  of  light, 
revealing  the  well-known  Bridge  of  Sighs,  spanning  the  gap ; 
and  withal  the  canal  itself,  a  sheet  of  molten  silver,  which, 
disturbed  by  the  gondolier's  oar-blade,  flashes  like  a  shattered 
mirror,  —  and  you  realize  something  of  what  the  poet  has  sung 
and  the  novelist  written.  Then  comes  the  tinkle  of  a  guitar 
faintly  across  the  water ;  long,  dark  gondolas  glide  silently 
jjast  your  own  like  magical  monsters,  guided  by  dark  genii, 
whose  scarcely  perceptible  motion  of  a  dark  wand  in  the 
silver  sea  sends  them  on  with  hardly  a  ripple ;  the  very  shout 
of  these  fellows  heard  comins;  across  the  water  at  niirht  has 
a  melody  in  it,  and  the  tremulous  light  from  tall  marble 
palaces  reflected  upon  the  water,  with  the  flitting  hither  and 
thither  of  gondolier  lanterns  seen  upon  some  of  the  narrower 
ebon  currents,  scarce  reached  by  the  moon  between  the  lofty 
buildings,  make  the  whole  scene  seem  like  a  fairy  panorama, 
that  will  vanish  entirely  before  the  light  of  day. 

The  Grand  Canal,  the  main  artery  of  the  city,  which  varies 
from  one  hundred  to  about  two  hundred  feet  wide,  seems  to 
wind  round  through  the  city,  past  all  the  most  noted  churches 
and  palaces.  Over  one  hundred  and  fifty  other  aqueous  high- 
ways lead  out  and  in  to  it,  and  more  than  three  hundred 
bridges  cross  them,  linking  the  seventy-two  islands  of  Venice 
together  like  the  octagon  braces  of  a  spider's  web. 

The  flood  of  memories  of  what  one  has  read  of  the  ancient 
glories  of  Venice,  Queen  of  the  Adriatic,  its  great  commercial 
power,  its  government  and  doges,  its  magnificent  palaces,  its 
proud  nobles,  its  wealth,  luxury,  and  art,  and,  above  all,  the 


ANCIENT    GRANDEUR.  491 

investment  of  every  monument  and  palace  with  historic  inter- 
est and  poetic  charm,  is  apt  to  cause  the  tourist  to  expend  his 
epistolary  labor  in  recalling  and  rehearsing  historic  facts  and 
figures  relating  to  the  wonderful  City  of  the  Sea ;  for,  in  these 
modern  days,  one  can  hardly  realize,  looking  at  her  now,  that, 
in  the  early  part  of  the  fifteenth  century,  her  merchants  had 
ten  millions  of  golden  ducats  in  circulation ;  that  three  thou- 
sand war  ships  and  forty-five  galleys,  besides  over  three  thou- 
sand merchant  ships,  flew  her  proud  flag;  that  fifty-two 
thousand  sailors,  over  a  hundred  great  naval  captains,  a 
thousand  nobles,  besides  judges,  lawyers,  merchants,  and 
artisans  were  hers. 

"  Once  she  did  hold  the  gorgeous  East  in  fee, 
And  was  the  safeguard  of  the  West," 

but  now  is  but  an  exhibition  of  the  traces  of  ancient  grandeur, 
power,  and  magnificence  combined  with  the  too  evident  indi- 
cations of  modern  poverty  and  decay. 

The  Doge's  Palace,  Piazetta,  Ducal  Palace,  and  the  two 
tall  pillars  bearing  the  Winged  Lion  and  the  statue  of  St. 
Theodore,  seen  from  the  water,  are  such  familiar  objects  from 
the  numerous  paintings,  —  no  art  collection  is  complete  with- 
out one  or  two,  —  engravings,  and  scenic  representations,  that 
they  seem  to  be  old  acquaintances,  and  at  first  to  lack  the 
charm  of  novelty.  Around  the  base  of  the  two  pillars,  when 
the  shade  of  the  buildings  falls  that  way,  lay  lazzaroni  at  full 
length  on  the  flat  pavement,  while  at  the  edge  of  the  broad 
platform  of  stone,  that  ran  out  to  the  water  of  the  canal,  were 
moored  groups  of  gondolas,  the  gondoliers  on  the  alert  for 
strangers  who  might  wish  to  visit  the  Lido,  Dogana  del  Mare, 
or  Rialto. 

Rialto !     Yes ;  that  is  the  first  place  we  will  visit. 

"  Many  a  time  and  oft  upon  the  Rialto." 

" Hey,  there,  gondolier  !     Ponte  cli  Rialto" 
The  gondolier  certainly  understood  English,  for  he  said 
something  about  "see,  signore,"  and  prepared  the  cushions  of 


492  SHYLOCK  —  THE    RIALTO. 

his  gondola  for  us,  upon  which  we  straightway  reclined,  and 
in  a  few  moments'  time  were  corkscrewing  our  way  through 
a  crowd  of  market-boats,  gondolas,  and  'long-shore-men's  craft, 
near  the  landing  at  one  end  of  the  celebrated  Merchants' 
Exchange  of  Shylock's  time. 

After  various  remarkable  curves,  twists,  and  wonderful 
windings  among  the  water  craft,  enlivened  with  shouts,  ex- 
clamations, a  sparkling  of  black  eyes,  and  play  of  swarthy 
features  on  the  part  of  the  gondoliers,  Ave  were  brought  to 
the  dirty  landing,  and  ascended  from  it,  and  stood  upon  the 
bridge  —  the  Rialto.  Much  of  the  poetry  of  the  Rialto 
bridge  is  destroyed  by  some  of  the  guide-books,  which  state 
that  the  land  on  the  left  of  the  canal  passing  up  was  called 
the  Rialto,  and  was  considered  the  city,  and  distinguished  as 
such  from  the  state  of  Venice ;  and  uj)on  this  Rialto,  not  the 
bridge,  were  the  custom-house,  various  warehouses,  and  other 
establishments  connected  with  trade  and  commerce ;  that  the 
real  "  on  'change,"  where  Antonio  and  Shylock  met,  was  in 
the  square  opposite  the  Church  of  San  Jacope,  Avhick,  in 
olden  time,  was  crowded  with  merchants,  who  there  trans- 
acted their  business  of  weight  and  consequence. 

However,  when  I  Avas  a  boy,  I  always,  in  my  mind,  made 
the  rendezvous  of  the  merchant  and  the  Jew  on  the  bridge ; 
but  it  must  have  been  sadly  changed  since  the  time  Shake- 
speare wrote  of,  unless  Shylock  came  to  buy  some  old  clothes, 
and  Antonio  to  obtain  grapes,  figs,  or  onions  for  dinner.  This 
we  thought  while  standing  on  the  bridge.  The  view  of  it 
from  the  water,  where  its  single  arch  of  ninety-one  feet  span, 
twenty-five  feet  from  the  current,  lifts  tip  the  six  arches  on 
each  side,  rising  to  the  open  or  central  arcade  at  the  top,  with 
the  rail  and  swelled  balusters  at  their  base,  is  so  familiar,  that, 
as  we  looked  at  it  from  the  gondola,  it  seemed  as  if  some  old 
scene  at  the  theatre  had  just  been  slid  together  at  the  sound 
of  the  prompter's  Avhistle,  or  that  we  were  looking  at  an  old 
engra\Ting  through  a  magnifying-glass. 

The  romantic  imagination  of  him  who  fancies  that  he  shall 
pace  over  this  old  structure,  and  muse  on  Shylock,  Antonio, 


THE  giants'  staircase.  493 

and  Othello  undisturbed  upon  its  broad  platform,  is  dispelled 
when  he  finds  that  its  seventy-two  feet  of  breadth  is  divided 
into  three  or  four  passages  or  streets,  and  two  rows  of  shops, 
de  ?oted  to  the  sale  of  every  conceivable  thing  in  the  way  of 
provisions,  fruit,  vegetables,  macaroni,  clothing,  cheap  orna- 
ments, bsads,  dry  goods,  and  china,  absolutely  crowded  with 
hucksters  of  every  description,  giving  an  amusing  panorama 
of  the  Venetian  retail  business  in  its  various  departments. 

Hard  by  our  hotel  was  the  Doge's  Palace,  another  familiar 
edifice ;  and,  as  we  stood  within  its  great  court-yard,  we  could 
realize  something  of  the  luxury  and  art  of  Venice  in  former 
days. 

The  marble  front  of  the  palace,  looking  into  this  enclosure, 
was  a  wilderness  of  elegant  carving,  armorial  bearings,  statues, 
wreaths,  elaborate  cornices,  elegant  columns,  wrought  balus- 
trades, graceful  arches,  and  beautiful  bass-reliefs.  Here,  in 
the  centre  of  the  marble  pavement,  are  the  great  bronze  open- 
ings of  cisterns,  nearly  breast  high,  richly  wrought,  and  five 
or  six  feet  in  diameter.  Standing  upon  this  pavement,  we 
look  up  at  the  celebrated  Giant's  Staircase  —  a  superb  ascent, 
and  architecturally  simple  and  grand.  At  its  top  stand  two 
colossal  statues  of  Mars  and  Neptune  on  either  side ;  and  it 
was  here,  upon  this  upper  step  between  the  two  colossi,  that 
the  doges  were  crowned;  and  here  Byron  locates  the  last 
scene  of  Marino  Faliero,  where,  when  the  citizens  rush  in, 

"  The  gory  head  rolls  down  the  Giant's  Stairs." 

The  panelling  of  this  grand  staircase  is  of  the  most  ele- 
gantly wrought  and  polished  marble,  of  various  hues,  artisti- 
cally arranged.  Everywhere  the  prodigality  of  rich  and  costly 
marbles  in  panellings,  pillars,  arcades,  arches,  colonnades,  and 
luxurious  decoration  is  lavished  with  an  unsparing  hand. 
Opposite  the  Giant's  Stairs  are  elegant  statues  of  Adam 
and  Eve,  while  others  of  great  Venetians,  or  allegorical  sub- 
jects, appear  in  various  niches.  We  stood  in  the  Hall  of  the 
Great  Council,  a  splendid  apartment  of  over  one  hundred  and 
seventy-five  feet  long  and  eighty-five  in  width,  the  walls  cov- 


494  THE    DOGES    OF    VENICE. 

ered  with  magnificent  paintings  —  Tintoretto's  huge  picture 
of  Paradise,  eighty-four  feet  wide  and  thirty-four  high ;  the 
Discovery  of  Pope  Alexander,  painted  by  the  sons  of  Paul 
Veronese ;  a  splendid  battle-piece,  representing  a  contest  be- 
tween the  Turks  and  Venetians  and  Crusaders ;  the  Return 
of  a  Doge  after  a  Victory  over  the  Genoese ;  Paul  Veronese's 
allegorical  picture  of  Venice,  and  many  pictures  illustrating 
the  history  of  Venice,  among  them  one  of  a  great  naval  bat- 
tle, full  of  figures,  and  quite  a  spirited  composition ;  others 
portrayed  various  scenes  illustrating  the  doges'  reception  of 
the  pope,  and  the  performance  of  various  acts  acknowledging 
his  power. 

All  around  the  upper  part  of  the  walls  ran  the  noted  series 
of  portraits,  seventy-two  in  number,  of  the  Doges  of  Venice, 
and,  of  course,  our  eyes  first  sought  that  of  Marino  Faliero, 
or,  rather,  the  place  where  it  should  have  been.  Directly  op- 
posite the  throne  —  probably  that  other  doges  might  take 
warning  —  hung  the  frame,  like  the  others,  but  in  place  of  the 
aged  face  and  whitening  hairs,  crowned  with  the  doge's  cap, 
was  the  black  curtain,  on  which  was  painted, — 

"Hie  est  locits  Marini  Faletro  decapiti  pro  criminibus." 

This  inscription  does  more  to  perpetuate  the  doge's  name 
to  posterity  than  his  portrait,  or  anything  else,  even  had  Byron 
never  written  his  tragedy.  Here,  among  these  portraits,  are 
those  whose  names  are  famed  in  Venetian  history.  Francisco 
Foscari,  who  reigned  for  over  thirty-five  years ;  "  blind  old 
Dandolo,"  who,  when  elected  doge,  in  1192,  was  eighty-five 
years  of  age,  and  led  the  attack  on  Constantinople  in  person 
at  ninety-seven.  Foscari's  tragic  story  is  told  by  Byron ;  and 
there  are  others  whose  deeds,  and  almost  very  names,  are  for- 
gotten. 

History  tells  us  that  of  the  first  fifty  doges,  five  abdicated, 
five  were  banished  with  their  eyes  put  out,  five  were  mas- 
sacred, nine  deposed,  and  two  fell  in  battle  long  before  the 
reign  of  Marino  Faliero,  who  was  beheaded.  Andrea  Don- 
dolo  died  of  vexation.     Foscari,  after  his  long  and  glorious 


the  lion's  mouth.  495 

terra  of  service  to  his  country,  was  rewarded  by  that  circle  of 
demons,  the  Council  of  Ten,  by  fiendishly  torturing  his  son, 
in  the.  vain  hope  of  extorting  a  confession,  failing  in  which 
they  deposed  the  father,  who,  when  the  great  bell  of  St.  Mark 
sounded,  announcing  the  election  of  his  successor,  fell  dead 
from  a  rupture  of  a  blood-vessel. 

An  historical  apartment  is  this  Hall  of  the  Great  Council, 
with  the  painted  battles  of  the  once  proud  republic  lining  the 
Avails,  and  the  faces  of  its  seventy-two  doges  looking  silently 
down  upon  these  mimic  scenes  of  their  glory  and  triumph. 
Here,  upon  the  very  platform  where  I  stood,  was  once  the 
doge's  throne.     Here  he  spoke  to  the  council ;  so  would  I. 

"  Most  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  seigniors  ;  " 

and  Othello's  address  never  had  more  quiet  listeners  than 
the  seventy-two  red-robed,  bell-capped  old  nobles  in  the  pic- 
ture frames  as  my  voice  echoed  in  this  grand  old  hall,  where 
theirs  had,  nearly  five  centuries  ago,  been  listened  to  upon 
affairs  of  state  with  rapt  attention.  A  wealth  of  art  in  the 
collection  of  splendid  creations  of  great  artists  pervades  this 
ancient  home  of  the  doges,  which  greet  the  visitor  at  every 
turn  as  he  goes  from  room  to  room;  collections  of  bronzes, 
curious  carvings,  and  rich  ornamental  work  are  profuse,  and  in 
one  apartment  is  an  exceedingly  curious  collection  of  ancient 
maps,  made  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  a  rare  and  interest- 
ing collection  of  manuscripts,  autographic  letters,  &c. 

But,  after  having  stood  upon  the  doges'  throne  in  the 
Council  Hall,  and  stepped  out  on  the  balcony  where  the 
doges  were  wont  to  show  themselves  to  the  people  below, 
we  must  see  the  "  Lion's  Mouth." 

Upon  inquiry,  we  found  we  had  passed  it ;  and  no  wonder, 
for  not  far  from  the  staircase  was  pointed  out  to  us  a  narrow  slit 
in  the  wall,  very  much  like  that  at  a  country  post-office  for  the 
reception  of  letters,  through  which  the  secret  denunciations 
were  slipped  for  the  inspection  of  the  terrible  Council  of  Ten. 

"  But  where  is  the  Lion's  Mouth  ?  " 

"  Here  is  where  it  was,"  said  the  guide :  and  he  further  told 


496  THE    COUNCIL    OF   TEN. 

us  that  government  was  having  a  bronze  head  made  to  supply 
the  place  of  the  old  one,  that  was  long  since  removed  —  for 
travellers  would  not  be  satisfied,  unless  they  saw  here  the 
real  bronze  head  of  a  lion,  with  a  fierce  mouth,  emblematical 
of  the  cruel  grip  of  the  terrible  inquisitorial  council,  that 
denunciations  which  sent  a  man  to  the  tortures  of  the  rack 
and  the  block  itself  could  ever  have  been  thrust  through  so 
contemptible  a  slit  in  the  wall. 

Next  we  sat  down  in  the  Hall  of  the  Council  of  Ten  it- 
self—  a  room  with  its  ceiling  richly  ornamented  with  paint- 
ings by  Paul  Veronese,  and  beautiful  paintings  by  other  art- 
ists upon  its  walls.  Then  we  visited  the  doges'  audience 
chamber,  rich  in  pictures  by  Paul  Veronese ;  but  the  best 
picture  we  saw  here,  from  this  artist's  pencil,  was  the  Rape 
of  Europa,  in  which  the  soft  beauty  and  rich  coloring  of  the 
landscape  contended  with  the  loveliness  of  the  female  figure  in 
exciting  the  spectator's  admiration.  This  picture  is  in  an 
ante-room,  said  to  have  once  been  a  guard-room,  upon  the 
walls  of  which  are  also  four  of  Tintoretto's  best  pictures  — 
Venus  crowning  Ariadne,  Mercury  and  the  Graces,  Vulcan 
at  his  Forge,  and  Pallas  and  Mars. 

But  it  is  useless  to  enumerate  paintings  in  these  grand  old 
palaces,  as  such  enumeration  becomes  but  little  better  than 
a  catalogue.  As  we  have  said  before,  these  glorious  creations 
of  the  great  artists  waken  enthusiasm  in  the  dullest  breast. 
We  have  nothing  at  home  with  which  to  compare  them ;  they 
are  sights  and  wonders  in  foreign  lands  that  are  a  large  por- 
tion of  the  charm  of  foreign  travel.  To  the  lover  of,  or 
enthusiast  in  art,  they  are  a  luxurious  feast  and  a  joy  for- 
ever; and  the  ordinary  sight-seer  soon  ceases,  after  travelling 
abroad,  to  regard  what  he  has  before  deemed  undue  praise  or 
admiration  of  the  old  masters,  as  affectation  on  the  part  of 
many  of  those  who  utter  it.  We  stand  "  in  Venice,  on  .the 
Bridge  of  Sighs,"  and  wonder  if  any  modern  tourist  ever  does 
so  without  repeating  Byron's  couplet ;  slowly  we  pass  over  it, 
glance  out  at  the  window  at  the  water  flashing  beneath,  think 
how  many  sad  hearts  have  crossed  this  little  span,  and  follow 


TEEEIBLE   DUNGEONS.  497 

our  guide  clown  into  the  prison  vaults  below,  down  through 
intricate  passages,  terrible  dungeons  in  the  solid  masonry,  and 
dimly  lighted  from  the  loopholes  of  the  passage. 

"  But  will  signorc  go  down  and  see  the  others  ?  " 

"  Others !  Great  heavens  L  can  it  be  that  there  are  any 
Avorse  than  these?" 

The  guide  answers  with  a  significant  shrug,  and  we  follow 
him  to  a  still  lower  depth. 

Here,  down  below  the  level  of  the  surface  of  the  canal,  are 
a  tier  of  holes  in  the  solid  masonry  —  one  can  hardly  call 
these  relics  of  tyranny  anything  else.  A  narrow  gallery 
leads  past  them,  from  one  end  of  which  the  only  light  and  air 
obtained  by  the  inmates  were  received.  These  dungeons  are 
about  twelve  feet  long  by  six  in  width,  and  seven  feet  high, 
and  were  formerly  lined  with  wood,  with  a  little  wooden 
platform  raised  a  foot  from  the  floor,  upon  which  the  prisoner 
rested  on  his  straw.  We  went  into  one  of  these  hideous 
dungeons,  where  some  of  the  wood-work  still  remained,  upon 
which,  by  the  aid  of  a  candle,  we  saw  some  half-obliterated 
cuttings  and  inscriptions  in  Italian,  said  to  be  the  mementos 
of  unhappy  prisoners  who  had  pined  in  these  terrible  places. 
It  makes  one  almost  shudder  to  stand,  even  now,  in  one  of 
these  fearful  prisons,  although  their  grated  doors  were  long 
since  wrenched  from  their  hinges  by  the  French;  but  the 
light  of  day  cannot  even  now  reach  them,  respiration  is  diffi- 
cult, and  the  visitor  feels,  while  standing  in  them,  a  nameless 
horror,  or  a  sensation  akin  to  dread,  lest  some  forgotten  door 
should  clap  to  and  fasten  him  down  forever:  so  we  hurry 
forth,  glad  to  see  once  more  the  blue  sky  above,  and  chase 
dull  fancies  from  the  brain  by  an  invigorating  draught  of 
heaven's  pure  air. 

Across  the  broad  pave,  in  front  of  the  Doge's  Palace,  and 
we  come  to  the  two  granite  pillars,  each  hewn  from  a  single 
block,  one  bearing  St.  Theodore,  and  the  other  the  Winged 
Lion,  which,  upon  their  pedestals,  must  be  over  sixty  feet  in 
height ;  they  form  a  sort  of  state  entrance,  or  indicators,  as  it 
were,  to  the  grand  Square  of  St.  Mark.  The  end  colonnade 
32 


498  SQUARE    OF    ST.   MARK. 

of  the  Ducal  Palace,  towards  these  towers,  at  the  landing,  or 
mole,  ranged  along  the  edge  of  the  canal,  forms  part  of  the 
piazetta,  continuation,  or  grand  state  opening  of  the  square 
out  to  the  water  side. 

We  pass  between  these  cohimns  and  over  the  place  that 
has  been  so  often  reddened  by  blood  at  public  executions, 
and  glance  up  before  entering  the  square,  at  the  elegant  archi- 
tecture of  the  palace  on  our  left.  First,  a  row  of  Corinthian 
pillars  upholds  a  richly-ornamented  frieze,  and  within  the  pillars 
Gothic  arches  form  the  covered  passage  for  pedestrians; 
above,  the  Gothic  pillars  are  repeated,  the  bend  of  the  inner 
arches  having  elegantly  sculptured  marble  figures,  in  half- 
reclining  positions,  and  carved  heads  over  the  key-stones; 
above  this  second  tier  comes  an  elegant  frieze,  ornamented 
with  Cupids  holding  beautifully-sculptured  hanging  garlands, 
and  sheltered  by  an  elaborate  projecting  cornice ;  above  this, 
the  marble  carved  rail  and  balusters,  with  each  post  sur 
mounted  with  a  full-length  marble  statue. 

This  elegant  and  elaborate  workmanship,  these  two  grand 
columns,  and  the  series  of  arches  of  the  Doge's  Palace,  the 
canal  between  the  palace  and  the  prison,  and  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs,  were  the  first  objects  that  greeted  my  sight  going  out 
from  the  hotel  in  the  morning ;  like  the  gondolas  and  canals, 
they  seemed  of  the  Venice  we  read  about,  as  they  do  even 
now,  as  we  look  at  them  in  one  of  the  photographic  me- 
mentos of  our  visit. 

The  great  Square  of  St.  Mark,  or  ^Pe-at-zir  San  Marko? 
as  tourists  learn  to  call  it,  after  they  have  been  there,  is  five 
hundred  and  eighty  feet  long  by  about  two  hundred  and 
seventy  wide.  It  is  an  elegant  enclosure,  paved  with  broad, 
flat  slabs,  and  surrounded  by  elegant  buildings,  the  lower 
stories  all  around,  except  beneath  one  or  two  public  build- 
ings, are  arcades,  in  which  are  shops,  restaurants,  and  money 
changers'  offices. 

At  one  end  of  the  square,  right  across  the  whole  space  of 
it,  rises  the  Church  of  St.  Mark,  with  its  arched  entrances, 
florid  decorations,  bronze  horses,  and   mosque-like  cupolas; 


TRICKS    OF    TRADE.  499 

upon  one  side  extends  the  Ducal  Palace,  the  lower  story  on 
the  square  utilized  into  cafes  and  shops ;  upon  the  other  side 
are  the  Mint  and  Library,  and  also  the  great  clock  tower,  with 
a  huge  sun-dial,  in  blue  and  gold,  upon  its  square  side;  above 
it,  in  a  sheltered  niche,  is  the  Virgin  and  Child ;  above  this,  a 
huge  winged  lion  upon  a  cornice ;  and  standing  high  upon  the 
top  of  the  tower,  in  the  open  air,  is  a  great  bell,  beside  which 
stand  two  huge  bronze  Moors,  armed  with  hammers,  with 
which  they  strike  the  hours  on  the  bell. 

Looking  towards  the  Church  of  St.  Mark,  we  see  the  lofty 
Campanile  lifting  its  huge  pyramidal  top  three  hundred  and 
twenty  feet  above  the  pavement.  Here,  in  this  great  square, 
of  a  cool  evening  and  moonlight  night,  played  a  fine  band  of 
music,  while  the  public  distributed  itself  about  at  tables, 
which  were  set  far  out  upon  the  pave,  and  ordered  refreshing 
ice-creams,  delicate  cakes,  and  light  wines,  from  the  cafe 
waiters,  which  they  enjoyed  while  listening  to  the  music. 
Ladies  and  gentlemen  sauntered  up  and  down;  lazzaroni 
stretched  themselves  at  full  length  in  shadowy  nooks ;  pedlers 
of  curiosities,  selecting  foreigners  with  unnerring  instinct, 
sought  to  dispose  of  their  wares  at  six  times  their  value,  re- 
minding one  very  forcibly  of  their  image-selling  brethren  in 
America.  A  fellow,  with  a  handful  of  tooth-picks  carved  out 
of  bone  into  the  shape  of  a  gondola,  sauntered  up. 

"Signore  Inglese"  (exhibiting  his  wares),  "you  buy  him?" 

"  No,  no  "  (shaking  my  head)  ;  "  don't  want  it." 

Who  ever  heard  of  a  man's  picking  his  teeth  after  eating 
ice-cream  ?  But  the  peripatetic  dealer  was  not  to  be  repulsed 
at  the  first  charge. 

"  Signore,  buy ;  varee  sheep." 

"  How  much  ?  " 

Unlucky  words.  He .  scented  a  trade  at  once.  His  black 
eyes  sparkled,  and  his  white  teeth  glittered  in  the  moonlight. 
The  rogue  understood  a  little  English,  too. 

"  One  lira,  one  franc,  sare ;  magnifique." 

"  One  franc !  Quarter  of  a  dollar  for  a  contemptible  little 
tooth-pick !     Get  out." 


500  JEWELRY    AND    PHOTOGRAPHS. 

"  Vai'ee  fine,  sare;  gondola,  sare;  tree  for  two  lira"  (hold- 
ing up  his  fingers,  and  laying  the  merchandise  on  the  table 
before  me). 

"  No,  no ;  too  dear." 

"  Vat  you  give  me  for  him  ?  " 

At  this  moment  the  cafe  waiter  brought  me  a  few  copper 
coins  in  change,  and  was  profoundly  grateful  for  two  of 
them.     I  chinked  the  others  in  my  hand  absently. 

"  Give  you  four  sous." 

"  Ah,  no,  signore "  (with  a  deprecatory  shrug)  ;  "  take  for 
half  lira  —  ten  sous." 

"  No ;  don't  want  it.     Four  sous." 

He  gathered  up  his  tooth-picks,  replaced  them  in  his  little 
tray,  walked  away  half  a  dozen  steps  —  then  returned. 

"  Simore  sail  have  him  for  four  sous." 

He  pocketed  the  coins  and  passed  away,  and  I  became 
possessed  of  a  Venetian  memento  which  I  afterwards  found 
could  be  bought  in  any  of  the  shops  for  half  what  I  paid 
for  it.  Nevertheless,  it  was  a  cheap  lesson  in  the  Italian 
retail  trade,  which  I  afterwards  profited  by. 

The  reader  will  recollect  that  the  promenading,  and  the 
lounge  at  the  tables  in  the  square,  is  undisturbed  by  horses 
and  vehicles.  There  are  no  horses  in  Venice.  If  one  by 
chance  should  be  brought  there,  he  would  be  exhibited  as  a 
show.  The  shops  around  the  square  are  frequented  by  trav- 
ellers for  the  purchase  of  Venetian  jewelry,  glass  beads,  and 
glass  ware. 

Little  silver  gondolas,  scarf-pins,  with  the  winged  lion  in 
gold,  and  mosaics,  inlaid  with  figures  of  beetles,  are  much 
bought  by  tourists.  So  are  the  little  mother-of-pearl-looking 
shells,  strung  together  in  necklaces  and  bracelets,  and  hawked 
round  by  the  pedlers.  But  let  no  one  who  visits  Venice 
leave  without  buying  some  of  Carlo  Ponti's  photographs,  the 
best  and  cheapest  in  the  world,  unless  he  has  changed  since 
we  were  in  his  shop,  52  St.  Mark's  Square.  These  photo- 
graphic views  were  of  rare  beauty,  and  of  all  the  interesting 
views  in  Venice,  public  buildings,  exteriors  and  interiors; 


SIGHTS    IN   TIIE    SQUARE.  501 

also  all  the  great  paintings,  besides  views  of  buildings  and 
paintings  in  the  great  galleries  of  other  cities.  These  beauti- 
ful large-sized  views,  which  bring  back  what  they  so  faith- 
fully represent  vividly  to  mind,  we  purchased  at  from  thirty 
to  seventy-five  cents  each.  In  New  York  and  Boston  the 
price  was  from  three  to  five  dollars  each. 

"We  have  sauntered  all  around  the  great  Square  of  St. 
Mark,  have  waited  till  the  hour  of  two  was  struck,  and  seen 
the  cloud  of  pigeons  that  come,  with  their  rush  of  wings  like 
a  shower,  down  to  the  pavement  at  one  end  of  the  square,  to 
be  fed  with  their  daily  ration  of  corn  by  the  government, 
punctually  at  the  sti-oke;  we  have  stood  before  the  three 
huge  pedestals  of  bronze,  which  are  a  dozen  or  twenty  feet 
high,  and  look  like  elegantly-wrought  gigantic  candlesticks, 
the  candles  being  the  tall  masts  that  rise  therefrom,  from  the 
peaks  of  which,  in  the  days  of  Venetian  glory,  floated  the 
silken  gonfalons  emblematical  of  the  three  dominions  under 
the  republic  —  Venice,  Cyprus,  and  the  Morea.  These 
beautifully-wrought  pedestals  exhibit  in  bass-relief  figures  of 
Tritons,  ships,  and  sea-nymphs  at  their  base,  with  a  circle  of 
the  everlasting  winged  lions  further  up  towards  the  centre, 
and  above  them  ornamental  leaves  and  flowers  enclosing  the 
medallion  portrait  of  one  of  the  doges. 

We  entered  the  Campanile,  or  bell-tower,  after  admiring 
the  statues  about  the  base,  with  some  doubts  about  under- 
taking its  ascent,  fearing  such  a  getting  up  stairs  as  its  lofty 
altitude  would  call  for.  To  our  surprise,  however,  we  found 
that  there  were  no  stairs  whatever,  the  ascent  being  made  by 
a  brick-paved  walk,  laid  in  a  series  of  zigzags,  each  a  gradual 
ascent  from  the  other.  So  up  we  went,  the  whole  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty  feet,  —  a  long  walk,  —  to  the  great  pyramid 
above,  and  enjoyed  a  superb  view  of  Venice,  and  the  Gulf 
of  Venice,  from  the  top. 

But  the  lion  of  Venice  (not  the  winged  one)  is  the  grand 
old  Church  of  St.  Mark,  with  its  five  great  arched  doorways, 
surrounded  by  magnificent  frescoes,  its  elegant  columns,  and 
bronze  horses,  of  historic  fame,  looking  out  into  the  square. 


502  THE    BRONZE    HORSES. 

This  church  is  said  to  be  a  mixture  of  Grecian  and  Roman 
architecture,  but  its  domes  give  it  a  suggestion  of  Saracenic 
style. 

The  three  huge  masts,  with  their  bronze  pedestals,  stand 
directly  in  front  of  it,  and  the  pavement  of  the  square  before 
the  church  is  fancifully  laid  out.  One  great  beauty  about  the 
entrances  is  the  double  row  of  numerous  little  columns  of 
various  kinds  of  marble,  beautifully  wrought.  I  counted  of 
these  fifty-two  in  the  lower  tier.  They  are  supported  by  the 
same  number  above,  and  in  the  arches  of  the  five  doorways 
are  great  mosaics,  in  bright  colors,  representing  the  Last 
Judgment,  the  Entombment  of  St.  Mark,  &c.  Above  these, 
over  the  huge  arches  of  the  doors,  except  the  central  one, 
are  other  rich  mosaics,  rej)resenting  the  Descent  from  the 
Cross,  the  Ascension,  &c.  A  marble  gallery  and  railing  run 
above  the  great  arches  of  the  doorways ;  and  over  the  cen- 
tral one,  in  front  of  a  huge  arched  window  of  many-hued 
glass,  stand  the  four  bronze  horses  of  which  so  much  has 
been  written.  They  are  said  to  have  been  brought  to  Rome 
by  Augustus  after  his  victory  over  Antony,  to  have  adorned 
a  triumphal  arch  there,  and  been  successively  removed  by 
Nero  the  fiddler,  Domitian  the  fly-catcher,  and  Trajan,  forum 
and  wall-builder,  to  arches  of  their  own.  The  Emperor 
Constantine  then  carried  them  to  his  new  capital,  Constanti- 
nople, which,  hundreds  of  years  after,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Turks,  but  which,  in  turn,  was  taken  by  the  crusaders  in 
the  fourth  crusade,  in  1206,  whence  they  were  wrenched 
from  where  they  stood  by  knightly  plunderers,  and  brought 
to  Venice,  to  be  again  pulled  down  by  the  great  modern  cru- 
sader, Napoleon.  France,  after  having  them  trotting  forth 
from  the  top  of  the  Arc  du  Carrousel  for  eighteen  years,  had 
to  trot  them  back  to  Venice.  So  that  these  horses  in  their 
day,  which  is  a  space  of  fifteen  hundred  years,  have  travelled 
about  the  world  to  some  extent.  These  bronze  steeds  weigh 
neai'ly  two  thousand  pounds  each. 

Above  the  upper  mosaics,  the  horses,  and  upper  arches,  the 
fringe  or  decoration  of  the  arches  is  crammed  and  crowded 


CIIUUOII    OF    ST.    MARK.  508 

with  fret-work,  statuary,  and  ornament.  Six  open-work, 
ornamental  steeples  enclose  colossal  statues  of  saints ;  a 
fringe  and  fret-work  of  angels,  palm-branches,  saints,  and 
scroll-work  run  all  along  the  top  of  the  arches ;  upon  the 
points  of  four  stand  four  other  saintly  statues ;  on  the  point 
over  the  great  arch  is  the  statue  of  St.  Mark ;  under  him  is 
his  winged  lion,  with  his  paw  upon  the  Book,  and  in  every 
conceivable  nook  and  corner  a  statue,  mosaic,  or  carving, 
making  this  great  temple  one  of  florid  display,  while  it  is 
rich  with  the  plundered  spoils  of  the  crusaders,  wrenched 
from  mosques  of  the  Moslem,  and  from  Constantine's  capital, 
when  it  fell  into  their  hands.  Everywhere  in  this  church  the 
visitor  sees  evidence  of  this  plunder  of  the  East,  or,  as  the 
old  crusaders  might  have  said,  "  reclamation  from  the  Mos- 
lems." One  of  the  great  bronze  doors  leading  into  the  spa- 
cious vestibule  is  said  to  have  been  one  brought  from  the 
Mosque  of  St.  Sophia  in  1203 ;  and  the  vaulted  roof  of  this 
vestibule  is  filled  with  beautiful  mosaic  representations  of 
Scripture  subjects,  while  around  its  walls  are  elegant  columns 
of  rare  marbles,  brought  from  the  East.  The  huge  portals 
of  entrance  are  of  bronze,  and  besides  the  one  mentioned 
above  is  the  elegant  central  one,  of  a  sort  of  Moorish  work- 
manship, with  its  panels  inlaid  with  figures  and  carvings  in 
silver. 

Amid  these  artistical  and  historical  curiosities,  we  are 
pointed  to  an  inlaid  red  and  white  place  in  the  pavement,  at 
the  principal  entrance,  marking  the  spot  where  Pope  Alexan- 
der III.  and  Frederick  Barbarossa,  the  bold,  red-bearded  em- 
peror of  Germany,  who  did  so  much  to  raise  the  secular 
power  of  his  kingdom  in  opposition  to  arrogated  papal 
supremacy,  met  and  were  reconciled.  In  other  words,  here 
is  where,  in  1177,  Frederick  rather  "knocked  under"  to  the 
pope. 

Passing  in  at  the  portal,  the  spectator  is  amazed  at  the 
vast  mass  of  elegant  columns  of  marble,  porphyry,  verd 
antique,  agate,  and  other  elegant  stone,  superb  mosaics,  gild- 
ing and  ornament  in  profusion  that  meet  his  view  on  every 


504  WONDEES    OP    ST.   MAEK's. 

side.  This  church  was,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  treasure-house  to 
the  Venetians.  Every  ship  that  went  out  from  the  republic 
when  it  was  building  was  enjoined  to  bring  back  material  for 
it ;  the  doges  lavished  their  wealth  upon  it,  and  great  artists 
left  their  work  upon  its  walls,  while  the  wealth  which  rich 
sinners  paid  in,  in  offerings,  in  the  hope  of  purchasing  with 
money  immunity  from  divine  wrath  for  their  cruelties  and 
crime,  was  expended  on  it  with  unsj^aring  hand. 

It  is  like  many  other  old  cathedrals  in  other  countries  —  a 
monument  of  the  nation  of  the  past,  and  not  of  the  present. 
So  St.  Mark's  is  a  symbol  of  old  Venice  as  it  was,  and  of 
which  we  read  in  history  and  romance  ;  and  as  we  stand  upon 
its  pavement,  uneven  in  marble  billows,  we  look  for  solemn, 
long-bearded  doges,  priests  in  their  vestments,  with  swing- 
ing censers,  moving  amid  the  pillars  ;  or  a  group  of  crusaders 
around  the  octagon  pulpit,  with  a  Maltese  cross  in  its  panel, 
instead  of  a  few  modern  dressed  tourists  in  the  midst  of  its 
dim-lighted  splendor. 

The  church  is  built  in  the  form  of  a  Greek  cross,  with  a 
great  dome  over  the  centre,  and  also  one  over  each  arm  of 
the  cross.  The  walls  and  columns  of  the  interior  are  of  mar- 
bles of  the  richest  and  most  elegant  description ;  there  are 
said  to  be  five  hundred  of  the  columns,  and  the  various  por- 
tions of  the  interior,  with  its  different  style  of  architecture, 
Grecian,  Gothic,  and  Saracenic,  would  take  a  volume  to  de- 
scribe. In  fact  the  visitor  hardly  knows  where  to  begin  first 
to  examine  this  incongruous  mass  of  architectural  defects, 
historic  interests,  splendor,  and  collection  of  rare  works  of  art 
badly  displayed.  The  interior  of  this  wonderful  old  church 
can  no  more  be  described  in  a  tourist's  sketch,  than  it  can  be 
seen  in  a  single  visit. 

There  is  the  very  porphyry  basin  which  holds  the  holy 
water  set  on  a  pedestal  that  was  once  a  Greek  altar,  upon 
which  the  Achaians  sacrificed  to  their  gods.  There  is  the 
superb  marble  colonnade  separating  the  nave  from  the  choir, 
supported  by  columns  of  black  and  white  porphyry,  and  up- 
holding fourteen  elegant  marble  statues,  seven  on  each  side, 


VENITIAN    CHURCHES.  505 

with  a  huge  cross  bearing  the  figure  of  the  Saviour,  in  solid 
silver,  in  the  centre.  There  is  a  magnificent  high  altar,  with  its 
four  richly-wrought  columns,  elegant  bronze  statues,  its  costly- 
mosaics,  its  pictures  in  gnus  and  enamel  of  scenes  in  the  life 
of  St.  Mark,  its  rich  bass-relief  and  gorgeous  canopy.  The 
canopy  of  another  altar  is  supported  by  four  fluted  spiral  pil- 
lars brought  from  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem,  two  of  them  of 
translucent  alabaster.  The  sacristy,  with  its  roof  covered 
with  rich  mosaics ;  the  curious  tessellated  floor,  and  the  won- 
derfully decorated  roof  above;  the  different  chapels  and 
altars,  each  one  of  which  is  a  specimen  of  the  art  of  a  dif- 
ferent time,  are  seen  here. 

There  were  the  splendid  tomb  of  Cardinal  Zeno,  built  in 
1515;  bronze  doors  made  in  Venice  in  the  year  1100;  the 
marble  columns  taken  from  Constantinople  in  1205;  the 
bronze  statue  of  St.  John,  by  Segala  in  1565 ;  the  altar  table 
made  from  a  slab  of  stone  brought  from  Tyre  in  1126 ;  mon- 
ument of  the  last  doge  buried  in  St.  Mark  in  1354 ;  the  figure 
of  Christ,  in  silver,  1594 ;  Greek,  Byzantine,  and  Gothic  speci- 
mens of  art.  The  church  is  a  study  of  marbles,  pillars,  and 
colonnades ;  every  part  of  it  seems  to  have  a  history,  and  the 
eye  becomes  wearied  with  an  endless  succession  of  different 
objects,  and  the  mind  confused  in  endeavoring  to  grasp  and 
retain  distinct  impressions  of  various  portions,  which  it  only 
])reserves,  at  last,  as  one  general  picture. 

In  Venice  the  tourist  cannot  but  be  struck,  as  elsewhere 
in  Italy,  with  the  splendor  of  the  churches,  the  wealth  of 
gold,  silver,  and  bullion  locked  up  idle,  dormant,  and  useless, 
contrasted  with  the  abundance  of  the  beggars  that  in  grisly 
crowds  beset  the  very  doors  of  these  splendid  temples. 
Cathedrals,  whose  wealth  would  build  a  hundred  such  re- 
lio-ious  edifices  as  we  erect  in  America,  and  which  contribute 
nothing  to  the  expense  of  the  state,  maintain  little  more  than 
a  corporal's  guard  of  bedizened  priests,  while  hundreds  of 
gaunt,  famine-stricken  wretches  are  perishing  at  their  very 
threshold  for  the  necessaries  of  life.  It  seemed  wicked  to  look 
upon  great  solid  silver  busts  of  forgotten  archbishops,  gem- 


506  MARBLE    DRAPERY. 

crusted  crosiers  and  mitres  that  make  their  public  appearance 
but  once  in  a  year  in  a  church  ceremonial ;  altars  with  bor- 
ders of  solid  gold  and  flashing  jewels,  hidden  from  public 
view,  and  unveiled  only  on  the  occasion  of  church  festivals, 
or  for  the  tourist's  shilling,  while  the  poor,  ignorant  followers 
of  the  church  vainly  plead  in  misery  at  its  portals. 

The  wealth  that  has  been  lavished  here  on  the  churches 
seems  to  have  been  poured  out  with  as  free  a  hand  as  if  the 
coffers  of  the  church  were  exhaustless.  In  the  Chiesa  de 
Gesuiti,  or  Church  of  the  Jesuits,  the  luxurious  magnificence 
of  the  interior  is  almost  indescribable.  The  walls  of  this 
edifice  are  completely  sheathed  in  carved  marble,  polished  to 
the  highest  degree,  and  inlaid  with  other  colored  marbles  in 
flowers  and  running  vines.  Up,  around,  and  near  the  pulpit 
are  heavy,  massive,  and  rich  hangings,  apparently  of  white 
and  blue  brocatelle,  graceful,  rich,  and  luxurious ;  but  you  find 
it  to  be  solid  inlaid  marble,  fashioned  by  the  cunning  of  the 
artificer  into  the  semblance  of  drapery.  There  it  is  with 
fringe  and  fold,  tassel  and  variegated  pattern,  wrought  with 
costly  and  laborious  toil  from  the  solid  stone.  Great  twisted 
columns  of  verd  antique  uphold  the  altar,  and  a  costly 
mosiac  pavement  covers  the  space  before  it ;  the  altar  itself 
is  rich  with  many-colored  marbles,  agate,  and  jasper,  and  all 
around  the  church  the  sculptors  have  wrought  out  the  marble 
into  a  counterfeit  resemblance  of  rich  draperies  —  a  wondrous 
work  of  art.  In  this  magnificent  temple,  in  front  of  the  great 
altar,  is  a  slab  marking  the  last  resting-place  of  the  last  doge 
of  Venice,  Manini  —  the  Latin  inscription  telling  that  "  the 
ashes  of  Manini  are  transmitted  to  eternity." 

The  Church  of  Santa  Maria  de  Frari,  built  nearly  six  hun- 
dred years  ago,  is  another  edifice  rich  in  artistic  works  and 
monuments.  Here  is  a  mausoleum  erected  to  the  doge 
Pesaro,  who  died  in  1659,  and  of  which  all  tourists  speak ; 
and  well  they  may.  It  is  a  great  marble  temple,  eighty  feet 
high,  its  lower  story  of  a  sort  of  Moorish  architecture,  open ; 
and  in  the  centre  sits  a  statue  of  the  departed  doge  upon  a 
sarcophagus  upheld  by  dragons,  while  two  obliging  bronze 


titian's  monument.  507 

skeletons  hold  in  their  bony  hands  scrolls  for  the  purpose  of 
revealing  the  virtues  of  the  great  departed  to  posterity.  But 
this  is  not  all  of  this  remarkable  monument.  At  the  four 
corners  of  the  pillars,  upholding  the  temple,  stand  four  huge 
Nubians  carved  in  marble ;  their  tunics  are  of  white  marble, 
their  legs  and  faces  black,  and  seen  through  rents  in  their 
white  marble  garments  appears  the  black  as  of  their  skins  —  a 
novel  effect  of  sculpture,  most  certainly. 

The  beautiful  monument  to  Titian,  completed  in  1853,  is 
another  of  the  artistic  wonders  of  this  church.  Upon  a  mar- 
ble platform  of  three  steps  rises,  first,  a  great  marble  base  or 
pedestal  about  thirty  feet  long,  at  each  end  of  which  are 
seated  two  allegorical  figures  of  men,  with  tablets  upon  which 
they  have  written  inscriptions.  One  of  the  figures  is  of  a 
man  in  the  full  vigor  of  life,  and  the  other  of  extreme  old 
age ;  between  these  two  rises  another  huge  pedestal  or  orna- 
mental marble  cornice,  ten  feet  high,  bearing  upon  its  face 
two  angels  in  bass-reliefs,  supporting  a  wreath  enclosing  the 
names  of  Titian,  and  King  Ferdinand,  who  completed  the 
monument;  upon  this  second  pedestal  four  richly-decorated 
Corinthian  columns  support  a  lofty  Corinthian  canopy,  look- 
ing, in  fact,  like  the  grand  arched  entrance  to  a  temple,  the 
centre  being  the  widest,  highest,  and  composed  of  an  arch. 
Seated  in  the  centre  is  a  grand  statue  of  the  great  artist,  with 
the  figure  of  an  angel  at  his  side ;  between,  and  at  the  sides 
of  the  tall  columns  supporting  the  canopy  above,  are  colossal 
marble  statues  of  four  female  allegorical  figures,  and  on  the 
background,  behind  these  groups,  upon  the  walls  of  this 
marble  temple  as  it  were,  are  sculptured  elegant  bass-reliefs 
of  the  painter's  greatest  works,  the  Assumption,  Martyrdom 
of  St.  Lawrence,  and  Peter  Martyr;  upon  the  wings  of  the 
great  arch,  above  the  column  supports,  are  other  beautiful 
bass-reliefs,  and  surmounting  the  whole,  the  winged  lion,  in 
sculptured  marble.  The  whole  structure  is  very  beautiful  in 
its  workmanship  and  elaborate  in  detail,  the  eight  colossal 
statues  finely  done,  the  marble  drapery  strikingly  natural. 
Even  a  picture  of  this  elegant  monument  is  something  to 


508  canova's  monument. 

study  and  admire,  and  to  be  able  to  stand  before  the  structure 
itself  is  more  than  doubly  gratifying. 

The  same  may  be  remarked  also  of  the  monument  of 
Canova,  directly  opposite,  the  design  of  which  is  almost  the 
same  as  that  of  Archduchess  Christiana  at  Vienna.  It  is  a 
huge  pyramid  of  white  marble,  and  at  the  right,  passing  to- 
wards its  open  door,  is  a  procession  of  life-size  figures  in  mar- 
ble, representing,  I  suppose,  Art,  Religion,  Genius,  &c.  The 
first,  a  figure  completely  shrouded  in  its  white  marble  drapery, 
is  bearing  a  funeral  urn ;  next  comes  a  youthful  figure  ascend- 
ing the  steps,  bearing  a  torch;  next  to  this  comes  a  male  and 
female,  walking  together  in  an  attitude  of  grief,  bearing  a  fes- 
toon of  flowers,  and  following  them  two  boys  with  torches. 
At  the  left  of  the  open  door  of  the  monument  rests  the 
winged  lion  in  a  crouching  attitude,  with  paws  crossed  upon 
a  book,  and  below  him  a  colossal  figure  of  an  angel,  seated 
upon  loose,  flowing  drapery  thrown  upon  the  marble  steps, 
and  leaning,  with  half-bowed  head,  upon  his  extinguished 
torch.  This  last  figure  is  most  naturally  and  effectively 
posed,  and,  with  one  of  its  feet  hanging  carelessly  down  from 
the  lower  step  over  the  pedestal,  and  the  drapery  fluttering 
beneath  it,  has  an  exceedingly  natural  air,  and  the  figure  is 
beautiful  and  graceful  as  one  might  suppose  an  angelic  visit 
ant  would  be. 

There  are  many  other  monuments  rich  in  historic  interest 
in  this  fine  old  church.  There  is  that  of  Francesco  Foscari, 
whose  name  has  been  rendered  immortal  by  Byron ;  and  op- 
posite it  the  tomb  of  another  doge  —  a  colossal  structure,  for- 
ty feet  high  and  twenty-seven  feet  wide,  decorated  with  a 
profusion  of  sculpture,  including  nineteen  full-length  figures ; 
the  monument  of  Simeone  Dandolo,  who  was  one  of  the 
judges  of  Marino  Faliero;  the  elegant  monument  in  rich 
marble  of  Jacopo  Pesaro,  who  died  in  1547,  and  near  it  a 
picture  over  the  Pesaro  altar,  the  property  of  the  Pesaro 
family,  representing  the  Virgin  and  Child,  seated  within  a 
magnificent  temple,  with  St.  Peter,  St.  Francis,  and  other 
saints  standing  near,  while  numerous  members  of  the  Peaaro 


CATHEDRALS   AND   PICTURES.  509 

family  were  kneeling  at  different  points.  It  was  a  grand  and 
elegant  painting,  said  to  be  one  of  Titian's  best  works.  The 
little  chapels  opening  out  of  the  church  were  rich  in  beautiful 
pictures,  monuments,  and  sculpture — votive  offerings,  or  to 
perpetuate  the  memory  of  members  of  some  of  the  great,  but 
now  extinct  or  almost  forgotten,  Venetian  families.  Those 
who  have  a  desire  to  view  the  tombs  and  monuments  of  the 
old  doges  will  find  many  of  them  in  the  Church  of  Santi 
Giovannio  e  Paolo,  including  the  splendid  one  of  Andrea  Ven- 
dramin,  who  died  in  1479. 

This  great  church  is  three  hundred  and  thirty-one  feet  long, 
one  hundred  and  forty-two  feet  wide  in  the  transepts,  and  one 
hundred  and  twenty-three  feet  high.  Here,  on  entering  at  the 
left,  we  saw  the  space  that  was  occupied  on  the  wall  by  Titi- 
an's masterpiece,  Peter  Martyr,  recently  destroyed  by  fire. 
Owing  to  some  repairs  that  were  to  be  made  in  this  part  of 
the  church,  this  priceless  painting  was  removed  to  one  of  the 
side  chapels  for  greater  safety,  which  soon  after  took  fire,  and 
was  totally  destroyed,  with  all  its  rich  decorations  and  pic- 
tures, the  Titian  among  the  rest. 

The  Santa  Maria  della  Salute,  an  elegant  church,  with  its 
great  dome  supported  inside  by  eight  pillars,  between  which 
open  seven  chapels,  is  beautifully  decorated ;  and  here  we  saw 
Tintoretto's  picture  of  the  Marriage  at  Cana,  Titian's  De- 
scent of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  elegantly-sculptured  high 
altar. 

We  become  wearied  with  paintings  at  the  churches,  and 
saints,  martyrs,  and  Madonnas  are  at  last  so  monotonous 
that  one  ought  to  take  a  vacation  between  a  visit  to  the 
churches  and  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  in  which  I  cannot 
begin  to  enumerate  the  beautiful  paintings.  Titian's  Assump- 
tion of  the  Virgin  is  one  glorious  work,  however  —  rich  in 
color  and  elegant  in  execution ;  Tintoretto's  Adam  and  Eve, 
another;  the  Fisherman  presenting  the  Ping  to  the  Doge, 
very  fine;  and  the  great  picture,  by  Paul  Veronese, of  Our 
Saviour  in  the  House  of  Levi,  an  immense  painting  covering 
one  entire  end  of  a  hall,  —  I  should  think  thirty  teet  or  more 


510  FLORENCE. 

long  by  twenty  in  height,  —  a  very  animated  composition; 
Titian's  St.  John  in  the  Desert,  and  Tintoretto's  Crucifixion, 
with  the  Three  Marys,  besides  an  indefinite  number  of  saints, 
martyrs  undergoing  tortures,  Madonnas,  holy  families,  Virgins, 
<fec,  in  various  styles  of  art  are  here. 

All  the  guide-books  tell  us  that  Florence  is  the  fairest  city 
of  the  earth,  that  it  is  Florence  the  Beautiful ;  so  old  Genoa 
is  called  Genoa  Superba ;  and,  in  fact,  local  pride  gives  many 
of  these  old  cities  grandiloquent  or  flattering  titles,  the  pres- 
ent significance  of  which  the  tourist  fails  to  see.  Florence 
owes  its  reputation  for  beauty  more  to  its  beautiful  surround- 
ings and  its  charming  environs  than  to  any  beauties  of  its  own, 
being  in  the  centre  of  a  sort  of  pretty  valley,  as  it  were,  with 
gentle  elevations  surrounding  it,  and  the  picturesque  peaks  of 
the  Apennines  rising  in  the  distance.  From  the  hill  of  Fie- 
sole  the  visitor  gets  a  most  charming  view  of  hill,  valley, 
mountain,  and  plain,  and  of  the  city  beneath,  with  the  Amo 
twisting  its  silver  thread  through  it.  The  country  all  around 
is  picturesque  in  the  extreme,  with  exquisite  bits  of  landscape 
taking  in  vineyards  and  country  houses,  villages  and  church 
spires,  gently  sloping  hill-sides,  and  distant  mountain  peaks? 
assuming  many  strange  hues  in  the  sunlight.  But  the  streets 
of  the  city  itself  are  generally  narrow,  and  with  but  little 
architectural  display.  The  great  palaces  look  like  fortresses, 
and  built,  as  perhaps  they  were,  for  the  strongholds  of  royalty. 

Our  first  walk  carried  us  to  the  Piazza  del  Gran'  Duca,  and 
here  rose  the  huge  square,  massive-looking  building,  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio,  with  great,  projecting  battlements,  and  the 
tall,  mediaeval-looking  watch-tower  rising  up  at  one  corner,  so 
familiar  from  the  many  pictures  that  have  been  drawn  of  it. 
Right  about  in  this  vicinity  are  many  superb  works  of  art  in 
the  open  air  —  an  equestrian  statue  of  Cosmo  I.,  the  Fountain 
of  N  eptune,  with  the  god  in  his  car  drawn  by  sea-horses,  with 
nymphs,  sea-gods,  and  tritons  sporting  about  the  margin  of 
the  basin;  and  on  one  side  of  the  door  of  the  palace  stands  a 
colossal  group  of  Hercules  slaying  Cacus,  while  on  the  other 
is  a  statue  of  David  by  Michael  Angelo. 


ART   IN   THE    STREETS.  611 

This  reminds  me  that  we  hear  this  great  artist's  name  at 
every  turn  in  Florence,  see  his  portrait  in  every  picture  store, 
and  prints  of  his  works  in  the  window  of  every  print  shop ; 
for  are  we  not  in  Florence,  the  birthplace  of  Angelo — not  only 
of  Angclo,  but  of  Dante,  Petrarch,  Galileo,  Boccaccio,  Leonar- 
do da  Vinci,  the  artist,  and  Benvenuto  Cellini,  the  wondrous 
worker  in  metals  ?  But  I  am  forgetting  the  beautiful  works 
of  art  that  stand  all  about  one  here  in  the  open  street,  which 
I  stood  gazing  at  in  silent  admiration. 

In  a  sort  of  grand  arcade,  or  "loggia,"  as  it  is  called,  which 
looks  like  a  house  with  the  two  lower  stories  taken  out,  and 
formed  into  three  great  arched  porticos,  is  a  broad  stone  plat- 
form, gained  by  an  ascent  of  half  a  dozen  broad  steps,  and  in 
it  some  fine  statuary.  One  of  the  most  prominent  is  a  fine 
colossal  bronze,  one  of  Perseus  with  the  head  of  Medusa; 
a  grand  figure  executed  by  Cellini,  representing  the  helmeted 
figure  standing  with  one  foot  upon  the  fallen  monster,  while 
with  one  hand  he  holds  aloft  the  decapitated  head,  and  the 
other  grasps  his  sword.  The  pedestal  of  this  statue  is  ele- 
gantly ornamented.  In  each  of  its  four  sunken  panels  are 
small  figures  of  mythological  deities.  Next  comes  a  marble 
group  of  a  helmeted  warrior  bearing  away  a  female  figure  in 
his  arms,  entitled  the  Rape  of  the  Sabines,  Hercules  slaying  a 
Centaur,  Judith  slaying  Holofernes,  and  the  Dying  Ajax,  sup- 
ported by  a  Greek  warrior.  There  are  also  six  colossal  female 
statues,  and  a  couple  of  grandly-sculptured  lions.  We  were 
full  tilt  on  the  way  to  visit  the  Uffizi  Gallery  when  these 
groups  arrested  us,  and  were  a  new  sensation  —  sculpture 
after  so  much  painting,  and  a  good  preparation  for  what  we 
were  to  see  in  that  celebrated  gallery. 

At  our  first  visit  here,  impatient,  we  pressed  on  to  the 
room  known  as  the  Tribune,  which  contains  some  of  the 
greatest  works  of  art  in  the  world.  Those  that  every  looker- 
in  at  a  city  shop  window  has  seen  copies  of  are  here  in  the 
original.  The  room  is  lighted  from  the  top ;  but  it  does  not 
appear  the  most  favorable  place  for  an  exhibition  of  these 
great  works.     First  greeting  the  visitor  as  he  enters  the  door 


512  THE    GREAT    MASTERPIECES. 

is  the  celebrated  Venus  de'  Medici,  one  of  the  most  graceful 
and  elegant  statues  in  the  world,  the  pure,  modest  beauty  of 
which  is  wonderful.  The  easy  grace  of  attitude,  the  modest 
beauty  of  the  face,  and  perfect  symmetry  of  the  whole  figure 
are  faultless.  Its  height,  five  feet  two  inches,  was  less  than  I 
supposed  it  would  be,  and  the  hands,  which  are  a  modern  res- 
toration, are  bad,  as  all  writers  agree. 

The  Apollino,  another  beautiful  figure,  shows  the  numerous 
seams  in  it,  where  it  was  joined  together,  after  having  been 
broken  by  a  large  picture  which  fell  upon  it  a  few  years  since. 
And  the  Dancing  Fawn  is  one  of  those  indescribably  natural- 
looking  and  faultless  pieces  of  antique  sculpture  that  makes 
one  wonder  if  we  really  do  have  any  great  sculptors  in  these 
modern  days ;  for  the  position,  and  every  feature,  limb,  and 
muscle  are  so  faithfully  rendered  as  to  make  the  marble  seem 
so  endowed  with  life  that  it  would  scarce  astonish  the  specta- 
tor if  it  continued  its  agile  motions,  and  assumed  a  dozen 
other  attitudes  upon  the  pedestal. 

Then  comes  the  group  of  the  Wrestlers,  admirably  exe- 
cuted, and  technically  and  anatomically  correct  in  its  sculp- 
tured delineation  of  straining  sinews  and  swelling  muscles. 
The  spectator  is  more  than  astonished  at  the  wonderful  art 
displayed  in  the  well-known  figure  of  the  Slave  overhearing 
Conspirators  while  sharpening  a  knife.  It  may  strike  many, 
as  it  did  ourselves,  as  the  best  subject  possible  for  the  sculp- 
tor's chisel  —  this  listening  figure  j)ausing  at  his  work,  as  if 
just  stricken  into  stone,  his  attention  suddenly  arrested  while 
at  his  occupation,  the  intent,  eager,  listening  look,  the  natural 
attitude  of  the  figure,  the  earnestness  in  the  face,  and  the 
parted  lips  —  all  make  you  think  that  there  is  only  one  thing 
more  the  artist  could  have  done  with  his  marvellous  touch, 
and  that  was,  to  have  imparted  to  the  figure  life  and  speech, 
for  it  seems  as  near  a  living  thing  as  statue  can  be. 

We  linger  long  in  the  Tribune,  loath  to  leave  these  superb 
creations,  that  reveal  new  beauties  the  longer  we  gaze  upon 
them.  On  the  walls  of  this  room  hang  works  from  the  pen- 
cils of  Titian,  Michael  Angelo,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  Correggio, 


UFFIZI    GALLERY.  513 

Guido,  and  Vandyke.  You  are  surrounded  by  priceless  gems 
of  art,  the  choicest  works  of  the  whole  Uffizi  collection. 
There  was  Titian's  Venus,  a  marvellously  beautiful  figure, 
upon  the  canvas ;  Del  Sarto's  Madonna  and  Child,  a  grand 
and  beautiful  painting  of  most  exquisite  coloring;  Albeit 
Diirer's  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  the  heads  of  the  figures  mag- 
nificent studies,  and  grand  in  their  execution;  Paul  Vero- 
nese's Ploly  Family ;  Raphael's  St.  John  preaching  in  the 
Desert ;  and  Guido's  Virgin,  besides  many  others. 

And  then  we  wandered,  hour  after  hour,  all  through  this 
wonderful  gallery,  said  to  be  the  richest  and  most  varied  in 
the  world,  though  less  extensive  than  the  Louvre  or  Vat- 
ican—  twenty-five  rooms,  besides  corridors,  vestibules,  &c., 
crammed  with  works  of  art.  Murray  says  that  the  original 
collections  of  the  Medici  family  were  dispersed  at  various 
periods.  The  collections  of  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  were 
sold  in  1494,  and  their  palace  plundered  in  1637 ;  but  Casi- 
mo  I.  recovered  much  of  what  had  belonged  to  his  ancestors, 
and  his  successors  rendered  this  collection  of  art  what  it  now 
is  —  the  most  interesting  in  Europe. 

Busts  of  this  Medici  family  are  placed  in  the  vestibule  ap- 
proaching the  gallery.  Here  also  are  bronze  statues  of  Mars 
and  Silenus,  and  an  infant  Bacchus ;  and  as  you  get  into  the 
vestibule  great  bronze  wolf-dogs  guard  the  door,  and  huge 
statues  of  the  Roman  emperors  look  down  upon  you.  It 
would  be  useless  to  attempt  a  description  of  the  collection, 
which  is  divided  into  selections  of  different  schools  of  art  in 
different  rooms. 

The  corridors  are  occupied  both  as  sculpture  and  picture 
galleries.  The  paintings  in  them  are  historical  series  of  the 
Tuscan  school,  and  the  statuary  a  splendid  series  of  busts  of 
the  Roman  emperors,  statue  of  a  Gladiator,  Apollo,  Urania, 
Cupid,  Bacchante,  &c. ;  Michael  Angelo's  bass-reliefs,  and  his 
statues  of  the  Drunken  Bacchus  and  Faun ;  also  his  Wound- 
ed Adonis  and  Donatellos,  David  as  the  Conqueror  of 
Goliah.  Then  we  have  a  room  filled  with  curious  Roman 
33 


514  OLD  MASTERS  IN  BATTALIONS. 

4 

sarcophagi,  with  curious  sculptured  bass-reliefs,  representing 
their  chariot  races,  gods,  and  sea-nymphs. 

There  is  a  room  full  of  pictures  of  the  French  school  of 
art,  two  of  the  German  and  Dutch  schools,  another  of  the 
Dutch  and  Flemish  schools,  with  pictures  of  Van  Ostade  and 
Gerard  Dow,  and  two  rooms  with  magnificent  pictures  of 
the  Venetian  school,  such  as  Paul  Veronese's  picture  of 
Esther  before  Ahasuerus,  —  only  think  what  a  grand  picture 
this  makes,  with  its  crowd  of  figures,  full  of  life  and  spirit,  — 
Giorgione's  Judgment  of  Solomon,  and  Tintoretto's  Christ 
entering  Jerusalem.  Then  come  two  other  intensely  inter- 
esting rooms  —  autograph  portraits  of  painters,  many  of 
them  painted  by  themselves.  There  are  Gnido  and  Vandyke, 
Rembrandt,  Titian,  Tintoretto,  Da  Vinci,  and  Michael  An- 
gelo,  and  the  portrait  of  Raphael,  which  has  been  so  fre- 
quently copied  and  engraved  in  pictures,  that  we  recognize  it 
instantly,  as  the  eye  wanders  over  the  crowded  walls. 

There  is  so  much  in  this  TJffizi  gallery  to  satisfy  every  vari- 
ety of  artistic  taste !  Just  think,  for  instance,  of  the  pleasure 
of  looking:  through  a  whole  room  full  of  the  original  drawings 
of  the  old  masters,  with  their  autographs  attached !  Here 
were  parts  of  Michael  Angelo's  architectural  plans,  his  rough 
sketches  in  red  chalk  or  charcoal ;  Titian's  drawings  —  rude 
outlines,  from  his  portfolio,  that  on  the  canvas  grew  to 
voluptuous  beauty ;  also,  those  of  Rubens,  Albert  Dlirer,  Tin- 
toretto, Del  Sarto,  and  a  host  of  others ;  and  these  that  we 
see  hung  upon  the  walls  are  only  a  mere  selection  of  speci- 
mens from  the  wealth  of  this  great  collection  of  original 
sketches,  which  contains  nearly  twenty-eight  thousand  in  all. 

But  paintings  and  sculpture  are  not  the  only  wonders  of 
the  Uffizi  gallery.  Coming  out  of  the  gallery  of  original 
drawings,  we  find  a  room  of  medals  and  coins,  containing  a 
set  of  nearly  nine  thousand  imperial  medals,  a  set  of  coins  of 
the  mediaeval  and  modern  Italian  states,  and  a  set  of  gold 
florins  from  as  far  back  as  the  year  1252.  We  could  not  but 
notice  that  more  than  one  custodian  or  official  regarded  us 
with  a  curious  eye  as  we  wandered  from  room  to  room,  and 


HALL   OF   NIOBE.  515 

halted,  catalogue  in  hand,  pencilling  dcvwn,  all  over  its  pages, 
the  notes  from  which  these  pages  arc  written,  as  if  wondering 
whether  we  were  noting  down  anything  that  Avas  illegal  or 
not,  so  suspicious  do  they  appear,  in  these  foreign  countries, 
of  anybody  who  appears  to  be  taking  notes  or  drawings. 
We  loitered  all  among  this  surfeit  of  artistic  beauty,  through 
the  whole  of  that  portion  of  the  day  it  was  open,  only  to 
find,  at  last,  that  we  had.  not  seen  half  of  it.  So  we  returned 
to  the  charge  again,  note-book  in  hand,  for  another  day's 
enjoyment. 

On  our  second  visit  we  stumbled,  first  on  the  Etruscan  col- 
lection—  two  rooms  full  of  Etruscan  vases  and  sepulchral 
urns,  of  ancient  make,  and  very  beautifully  decorated  with 
antique  paintings,  such  as  battles  of  the  centaurs,  Grecian 
wTarriors  and  combats,  all  very  interesting,  as  giving,  in  many 
instances,  the  costumes  and  manners  of  the  ancient  Greeks, 
painted  at  the  time  of  their  existence.  There  was  also  a 
very  extensive  collection  of  ancient  black  vases,  found  in  Etru- 
ria,  and  in  the  Necropolis  of  Sarteano,  the  graceful  and  ele- 
gant shapes  of  which  form  the  copies  of  many  of  our  richest 
and  most  beautiful  vases  of  modern  manufacture.  The  cel- 
ebrated Medicean  vase,  or  Hadrian  vase,  which  was  found  in 
Hadrian's  villa,  near  Tivoli,  of  course  claimed  our  attention, 
and  also  a  curious  collection  of  urns,  in  which  the  ancients 
used  to  enclose  the  ashes  of  their  dead. 

"  Niobe  dissolved  in  tears."  How  much  we  have  read  and 
studied  about  Niobe,  and  how  writers  delight  to  quote  her 
name,  especially  whenever  tears  are  spoken  of!  I  remem- 
ber getting  a  thwack  at  school  for  pronouncing  the  name 
of  the  tearful  mother,  JVtgh-oab,  soon  after  another  youngster 
had  been  corrected  for  the  same  blunder.  The  story  of 
Niobe  and  her  children  was*  often  taken  as  a  subject  by  the 
ancient  artists,  and  the  most  celebrated  of  the  ancient  repre- 
sentations was  that  which  filled  the  temple  of  Apollo  Sosia- 
nus,  at  Rome,  and  was  found  in  that  city  in  1583,  and  now 
preserved  here  in  a  room  very  properly  devoted  to  it,  called  the 
Hall  of  Niobe.     The  group  consists  of  the  mother,  who  holds 


516  CABINET   OF   GEMS. 

one  of  the  children  upon  her  lap,  while  thirteen  statues  of 
other  sons  and  daughters  are  grouped  about  in  various  atti- 
tudes. It  is  useless  to  attempt  to  convey  the  impression 
made  by  such  masterly  specimens  of  ancient  art  —  figures 
which  may  have  been  shaped  by  the  chisel  of  Praxiteles, 
certainly  by  some  sculptor  who  wrought  as  though  he  felt  he 
was  portraying  a  domestic  tragedy  he  had  been  an  eye- 
witness of,  and  not  a  mythological  legend.  The  deep,  touch- 
ing grief  of  the  mother,  the  admirably  natural  figure  of  one 
of  the  dying  sons,  that  almost  causes  the  spectator  to  rush  to 
his  aid,  —  in  fact,  the  whole  story  is  told  in  marble,  and  with 
wonderful  effect,  making  a  powerful  impression  upon  the 
beholder. 

Turning  from  this  great  work  of  the  ancient  sculptor's  art, 
our  eyes  fall  upon  the  original,  of  which  we  have  often  seen 
copies,  Snyder's  painting  of  the  Boar  Hunt ;  then  the  spirited 
picture  of  Henry  IV.  at  the  Battle  of  Ivry, : —  King  Henry 
of  Navarre,  whom  all  the  school-boys  will  recollect,  from  the 
poem  which  is  so  popular  with  them  for  declamation :  — 

"  The  king  has  come  to  marshal  us, 
In  all  his  armor  dressed, 
And  he  has  bound  a  snow-white  plume 
Upon  his  gallant  crest." 

Another  spirited  and  beautiful  figure  painting  was  the  En- 
trance of  Henry  IV.  into  Paris  after  the  Battle  of  Ivry. 

Among  other  riches  of  this  great  collection  is  a  cabinet  of 
gems,  where  were  a  wonderful  casket  of  rock  crystal,  with 
seventeen  compartments,  in  which  were  elaborately  wrought 
figures  representing  events  of  the  Passion  ;  an  elegant  vase 
of  sardonyx,  on  which  Lorenzo  de'  Medici's  name  was  en- 
graved ;  another  cut  out  of  a  solid  block  of  lapis  lazuli,  &c. 

Then  came  a  great  cabinet  of  ancient  bronzes ;  and  it  is 
curious  to  see  how  these  specimens  of  antique  Grecian  art 
—  figures,  vases,  and  bass-reliefs  —  form  models  for  the  most 
graceful,  popular,  and  beautiful  specimens  of  artistic  work 
and  ornament  at  the  present  day.     In  this  collection,  besides 


MICHAEL    ANGELO's    HOUSE.  517 

the  bronze  figures  of  Jupiters,  Venuses,  and  other  deities, 
and  various  beautiful  bass-reliefs,  discovered  in  ruined  cities, 
we  found  a  most  interesting  collection  of  ancient  Grecian  and 
Roman  arms  and  helmets,  candelabra,  household  utensils,  &c. 
Here  were  spear-heads  of  Roman  legions,  that  marched  hun- 
dreds of  years  before  Christ,  the  weights  and  measures  of 
artisans,  the  helmet  of  the  warrior,  the  bronze  brooch  of  the 
Greek  maiden,  and  the  bronze  greaves  of  the  Etruscan  soldier. 
The  hall  of  modern  bronzes  gave  us  figures  by  artists  of  mod- 
ern times,  such  as  Ghiberti's  Sacrifice  of  Abraham,  Giovanni 
of  Bologna's  Mercury,  a  bust  of  Cosimo  I.  by  Benvenuto 
Cellini,  an  angel  by  Donatello,  &c.  And  all  this  grand  col- 
lection, this  wealth  of  art,  where  student  may  study,  the 
dreamer  may  dream,  sight-seer  may  drink  his  fill,  the  artist 
educate  his  taste,  and  the  lover  of  the  beautiful  feast  to  his 
heart's  content,  is  free  to  all  who  desire  to  look  upon  it.  It 
is  hard,  indeed,  to  tear  one's  self  away  from  the  treasures  that 
are  heaped  up  here ;  but  there  are  other  sights  to  be  seen,  and 
more  galleries,  and  churches,  and  palaces  to  be  looked  at. 

An  interesting  visit  was  that  made  by  us  to  Michael  Ange- 
los's  house,  or  the  Palazzo  Buonarroti,  as  it  is  called.  It 
belongs  to  the  city,  having  been  bequeathed,  with  its  contents, 
by  the  great  artist's  last  male  relative  at  his  death,  and  con- 
tains many  interesting  relics,  much  of  the  contents  and  furni- 
ture being  kept  in  the  original  position.  Here  we  passed 
through  the  rooms,  which  open  one  out  of  the  other,  and  have 
their  walls  adorned  with  choice  pictures  by  great  painters. 
One  room  has  a  series  of  paintings  representing  the  principal 
events  in  his  life,  and  another  is  hung  with  pictures  relative  to 
members  of  the  Buonarroti  family ;  for,  be  it  known  to  many 
who  suppose  that  Michael  Angelo  is  the  entire  name  of  the 
artist,  that  it  was  Michael  Angelo  Buonarroti.  He  had  intended 
before  his  death,  which  occurred  in  Rome,  in  the  ninetieth  year 
of  his  age,  to  have  sent  all  his  personal  property  to  Florence, 
where  a  house  was  to  have  been  purchased  to  receive  it;  bi.t 
this  was  not  done ;  so  at  his  death  the  Florentine  ambassador 
at  Rome,  acting  under  instructions,  took  possession  of  and 


518  RELICS    OF   ANGELO. 

forwarded  the  mementos  which  we  looked  upon,  and  which 
are  now  deposited  in  this  "  palace  "  of  the  family,  which  was 
not,  as  many  travellers  understand,  the  last  residence  he 
occupied  previous  to  his  death.  That  event  took  place  in 
Rome,  on  the  18th  of  February,  1564 ;  and  on  the  11th  of 
March  following  his  body  was  returned  to  his  native  city  of 
Florence,  after  thirty  years  of  voluntary  exile,  and  entombed 
in  the  Church  of  Santa  Croce. 

Around  one  of  the  rooms  in  this  interesting  mansion  hung 
drawings  and  sketches  by  the  great  artist's  own  hand,  and  in 
another  were  various  models  in  plaster,  wax,  and  terra  cotta, 
of  portions  of  his  great  works;  also  of  his  own  make,  such  as 
a  model  in  wax  of  his  statue  of  David,  a  bass-relief  of  the 
Descent  from  the  Cross,  &c. ;  then  we  were  shown,  in  a  little 
boudoir,  a  collection  of  his  plans  and  drawings,  including  his 
pencil  sketch  of  the  Last  Judgment,  painted  for  the  Sistine 
Chapel;  also  several  interesting  manuscripts,  and  other  auto- 
graphic memorials,  and  the  little  oil-cups,  flasks,  and  other 
utensils  that  he  used  in  work  upon  painting. 

In  a  little  side-room,  scarcely  larger  than  a  closet,  we  were 
shown  a  table  at  which  he  was  said  to  write,  and  from  one 
of  the  drawers  were  taken  the  slippers  which  he  used  to  wear, 
and  which  we  were  reverently  permitted  to  handle ;  nor  was 
this  all ;  his  two  walking-sticks,  with  crutched  handles*  and 
the  sword  worn  at  his  side  on  great  occasions,  and  other  in- 
teresting personal  relics,  were  exhibited.  This  room  is  desig- 
nated, by  the  guide,  "  Michael  Angelo's  Study,"  though  when 
he  studied  there  the  guide  was  unable  to  communicate ;  still 
we  had  seen  enough  personal  mementos  of  the  great  artist  to 
render  our  visit  interesting  enough  not  to  cavil  at  trifles ;  and 
there  being  no  question  of  the  authenticity  of  the  relics,  we 
allowed  the  guide  to  communicate  harmless  little  fictions 
regarding  the  house  unquestioned. 

First  of  all  the  churches  in  Florence  we  visit  the  mag- 
nificent Duomo,  or  Cathedral,  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  the 
magnificent  swelling  dome  of  which  is  a  prominent  and  im- 
posing object  in  all  the  views  of  the  city  seen  from  the  sur- 


THE   DUOMO.  519 

rounding  heights.  Notwithstanding  the  numerous  grand 
architectural  wonders  I  had  looked  upon,  eacli  new  one,  even 
after  six  months  of  sight-seeing,  excites  admiration  and  in- 
terest. These  vast  piles  of  architectural  beauty,  the  wealth 
of  artistic  execution  in  their  sculpture,  grand  conception,  skill 
in  grouping  pillars  and  arches,  taste  in  decoration,  and.  withal 
the  overwhelming  vastness  and  grandeur  of  these  great  mon- 
uments of  the  old  cathedral-builders,  can  but  have  an  effect 
even  upon  the  most  ordinary  perception. 

This  great  cathedral  was  commenced  in  1298,  and  was  one 
hundred  and  sixty  years  in  building,  employing,  during  that 
time,  many  of  the  most  celebrated  of  architects  in  its  con- 
struction, and  serving  as  a  model,  or  rather  giving  Angelo 
his  ideas,  for  the  model  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome.  The  cathedral 
appears  built  of  marble,  and  as  you  enter  from  the  bright 
glare  of  an  Italian  sun  into  its  cool  interior,  and  upon  the 
tessellated  pavement  of  rich  marbles,  seems  dark  and  sombre. 
This  is  accounted  for,  in  some  degree,  by  the  small  size  of  the 
windows,  and  the  deep  color  of  the  rich  stained  glass  with 
Avhich  they  are  filled ;  this  glass  is  said  to  have  been  made  in 
1434,  and  is  superb,  both  in  color  and  designs. 

The  first  view  we  had  down  the  four  great  arches  of  the 
nave  was  grand,  and  the  distance  seemed  more  than  it  really 
is ;  but  then  fancy  the  size  of  a  cathedral  the  height  of  whose 
nave  is  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  This  great  Duomo 
is  five  hundred  feet  long,  the  top  of  its  cross,  three  hundred 
and  eighty-seven  feet  from  the  ground,  and  its  transepts  are 
three  hundred  and  six  feet  in  length ;  the  height  even  of  the 
little  side-aisles  is  nearly  a  hundred  feet.  Above  all  looms 
the  great  cupola,  about  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  in  diame- 
ter, and  one  hundred  and  thirty-three  feet  high,  which  is  ex- 
tremely grand  and  beautiful.  Its  interior  is  painted  in  fresco, 
with  figures  of  angels,  saints,  Paradise  and  Purgatory. 

The  grand  altar  is  directly  under  this  great  dome,  and 
behind  it  is  an  unfinished  group,  representing  the  Entomb- 
ment by  Michael  Angelo.  Around  the  sides  of  the  church 
were  tombs  and  monuments,  which  our  guide  would  gladly 


520  THE   CAMPANILE. 

have  explained  to  us  seriatim  ;  but  to  make  them  interesting 
required  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  Italian  history  than 
we  are  willing  to  claim ;  but  we  did  stop  opposite  the  bust 
of  Giotto,  whose  skill  was  called  into  operation  in  building  a 
large  portion  of  the  cathedral ;  the  tomb  of  Antonio  d'  Orso, 
a  bishop,  who,  when  the  city  was  besieged,  called  around  him 
officers  of  the  church,  and,  in  full  armor,  manned  the  walls 
against  the  enemy ;  and  the  picture  of  Dante,  upon  one  of  the 
walls,  in  red  robe,  with  laurel  crown  on  his  head  and  book  in 
hand,  familiar  from  the  engraving  we  have  so  often  seen  of  it. 
A  climb  up,  to  view  the  marvellous  beauty  of  the  great  dome, 
gave  us  not  only  a  good  idea  of  its  vastness,  —  it  being  the 
largest  cupola  in  the  world,  —  but  also  a  superb  view  out 
towards  Fiesole. 

The  Campanile,  or  bell  tower,  situated  quite  near  the 
cathedral,  is  an  elegant  structure  of  Grecian  architecture, 
square  in  form,  with  beautiful  Gothic  windows,  and  is  built 
of  light-colored  marble,  and  adorned  with  rich  sculptured  work 
and  decoration  ;  four  hundred  and  fourteen  steps  carry  you 
to  the  summit,  the  height  being  two  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  feet.  We  took  another  view  here  of  the  country,  also  at 
the  symmetrical  dome  of  the  cathedral  close  at  hand,  inspected 
the  six  huge  bells  that  are  swung  up  here,  and  descended  to 
view  the  two  statues  of  the  artists  of  the  cathedral,  which  are 
placed  in  the  square.  That  of  one  of  them  has  a  plan  of  the 
cupola  upon  his  lap,  from  which  he  is  looking  up  at  the  cathe- 
dral itself  as  completed. 

The  superb  Baptistery  of  St.  Giovanni,  of  whose  bronze 
doors  we  had  heard  so  much,  was  close  at  hand,  and  next 
claimed  our  attention.  It  is  built  of  black  and  white  marble, 
and  the  chief  beauty  inside,  which  is  a  regular  octagon,  is 
the  splendid  Corinthian  columns  and  the  beautiful  mosaics 
in  the  cupola.  The  floor  is  paved  with  black  and  white 
marble,  in  most  curious,  complicated,  and  elegant  designs. 
But  the  great  attraction  of  the  building  is  its  splendid  bronze 
doors.  Michael  Angelo's  speech  about  them  is  inserted  in 
every  guide-book,  and  repeated  by  every  cicerone  who  shows 


CnURCH   OF    SANTA   CROCE.  521 

them.  lie  said  they  were  worthy  of  being  the  gates  of  Para- 
dise; and  as  no  tourist's  description  wc^uld  be  complete  without 
the  expression,  I  have  here  introduced  it.  They  are,  indeed, 
wonderful  and  elaborate  works  of  art.  One  contains  groups 
of  figures,  wrought  out  of  the  bronze,  representing  scenes  in 
the  life  of  St.  John  in  the  upper  compartments,  and  allegori- 
cal figures  of  the  Virtues  in  the  loAver.  This  is  the  gate 
completed  in  1330,  and  the  Florentines  do  not  seem  to  take 
great  care  of  its  beauty,  for  the  figui-es  were  sadly  filled  up 
with  dust  and  dirt,  and  needed  a  most  thorough  cleansing 
when  we  saw  them.  The  other  two  ai-e  filled  with  scenes 
from  the  Scriptures,  such  as  the  Creation  of  Man,  Noah 
after  the  Deluge,  Queen  of  Sheba  visiting  Solomon,  Esau 
selling  his  Birthright,  &c.  The  execution  of  all  these  fig- 
ures is  marvellous ;  and  we  are  told  these  portals,  which  are 
not,  as  may  be  supposed,  of  large  size,  were  the  result  of  forty 
years  of  patient  labor  on  the  part  of  the  artist  (Ghiberti) 
employed  upon  them.  The  work  seems  such  as  would  be 
more  in  place,  however,  upon  a  casket  or  smaller  surface  than 
the  doors  of  a  church,  being  too  elaborate  for  such  a  position, 
and  spread  over  too  much  surface  to  receive  the  careful 
examination  which  their  merit  requires. 

The  most  noted  church  in  Florence  is  that  of  the  Santa 
Croce,  founded  in  1294,  and  celebrated  as  being  the  burial- 
place  of  many  great  Italians  —  Angelo,  Galileo,  Machiavelli, 
and  others.  But  whoever  expects  that  the  cathedral  mauso- 
leum of  these  illustrious  ashes  is  one  of  architectural  gran- 
deur will  be  somewhat  disappointed,  as  he  comes  to  a  huge, 
ungainly  brick  structure,  which  seems  utterly  unworthy  to 
enclose  the  illustrious  dead  that  have  been  interred  within  its 
walls.  The  interior,  lighted  by  stained  glass  windows,  con- 
tains many  interesting  monuments  —  Angelo's,  with  his  bust 
and  allegorical  statues  of  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architec- 
ture ;  a  huge  monument  to  Dante,  with  the  genius  of  Poetry 
deploring  his  death ;  that  to  Machiavelli,  with  an  allegorical 
figure  of  History;  a  monument  to  Alfieri,  executed  by 
Canova. 


522  MICHAEL   ANGELO's    STATUARY. 

There  are  monuments  to  various  great  scholars,  naturalists, 
and  historians  —  Galileo  ;  Lami,  a  Florentine  historian ;  Tar- 
gioni,  a  great  chemist ;  an  elegant  one  to  Leonardi  Bruni,  a 
great  scholar,  who  died  in  1444;  Michele,  a  great  botanist; 
Nobili,  a  philosopher,  &c.  At  one  end  of  this  church,  which  is 
four  hundred  and  sixty  feet  long  and  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
four  wide,  is  a  series  of  chapels,  rich  in  frescoes,  paintings,  and 
other  works  of  art,  among  which  we  find  the  usual  scriptural 
paintings,  such  as  Assumption  of  the  yirgin ;  Coronation  of 
the  Virgin ;  Madonna  and  Child ;  also  fine  frescoes  by  Giotto. 
The  Nicolini  Chapel  is  elegantly  decorated  with  marbles, 
and  contains  fine  statuary,  including  noble  figures  of  Moses 
and  Aaron,  and  various  allegorical  figures ;  and  so  we  wander 
from  one  chapel  to  another,  gazing  at  frescoes  and  paintings, 
bass-reliefs,  monuments,  and  ornamental  carvings,  till  sated 
with  art  and  fatigued  with  gazing. 

The  Church  of  San  Lorenzo  we  must  visit,  to  view:  the 
wonders  it  contains  in  monuments  from  Angelo's  chisel.  In 
the  new  sacristy  of  this  church,  which  is  a  monumental  chapel 
designed  by  Michael  Angelo,  are  his  two  great  marble  monu- 
ments, one  to  Lorenzo,  lather  of  Catherine  de'  Medici,  and  the 
other  to  Giuliano  de'  Medici.  Each  of  these  monuments  is  a 
casket  or  sarcophagus  supported  by  two  colossal  reclining 
figures  on  each  side,  and  surmounted  above  by  colossal 
statues  of  the  deceased  in  armor,  seated,  with  a  background 
of  pillars,  cornice,  and  elegant  architectural  design.  The  two 
colossal  reclining  figures  on  Lorenzo's  tomb  are  called  "  Day  " 
and  "  Night,"  and  those  on  Giuliano's  "  Morning  "  and  "  Even- 
ing." All  of  these  four  figures  wrere  of  wonderful  power,  and 
make  a  strong  impression  on  the  sj)ectator ;  but  there  are  two 
more. 

Upon  the  top  of  Giuliano's  tomb  sits  his  statue,  that  of  a 
Roman  general  partly  clad  in  armor,  with  a  truncheon  lying 
across  his  lap,  and  his  head  turned  on  one  side,  as  if  thought- 
fully gazing  at  something  in  the  distance.  On  Lorenzo's  sits 
a  figure  we  recognize  instantly  as  one  we  have  seen  a  hun- 
dred times  in  bronze,  in  shop  windows,  and  upon  marble 


1L0KENTINE    MOSAICS.  523 

clock  tops;  bat  did  we  ever  recognize  in  the  base  copies  the 
marvellous  beauty  and  the  grandeur  of  expression  seen  in  the 
original  ?  A  man  in  full  armor,  seated,  absorbed  in  thought, 
his  face  resting  upon  his  hand,  and  that  face  beneath  his  over- 
shadowing helm,  so  full  of  deep,  quiet,  meditative  thought, 
that  you  involuntarily  wait  for  a  play  of  the  features  to  reveal 
the  deep,  calm  workings  of  the  great  mind  behind  it.  The 
whole  attitude  of  the  figure  is  unstudied,  graceful,  and  natural 
—  the  most  natural  attitude  of  a  great  warrior  absorbed  in 
profound  meditation.  It  was  hard  to  tear  yourself  away 
from  quiet,  wondrous  admiration  of  this  superb  statue. 

The  first  thing  one  inquires  for  on  shopping  excursions  in 
Florence  is  the  Florentine  mosaics,  those  ingenious  specimens 
of  painting  in  colored  stone,  in  breast-pins,  bracelets,  or  sleeve 
buttons.  As  all  know,  these  mosaic  pictures  are  made  by 
joining  together  small  pieces  of  stone  of  the  natural  color 
into  figures  of  flowers,  fruits,  animals,  and  birds,  the  stone  be- 
ing first  sawed  by  fine  saws  into  very  thin  veneers,  and  the 
design  fitted  upon  a  background  of  polished  slate.  These 
differ  from  the  Roman  mosaic,  inasmuch  as  the  color  of  the 
latter  is  artificial ;  the  workmanship  of  the  Florentine  is  also 
more  elegant.  Tourists  are  apt  here,  as  elsewhere  on  the 
continent,  to  be  imposed  upon  by  venders  of  cheap  and  spuri- 
ous imitations  of  originals,  and  will  find  that  the  really  beauti- 
ful and  artistic  ones,  although  surprisingly  cheap  in  compari- 
son with  the  prices  charged  in  America,  cost  a  tolerably  good 
sum,  for  the  manufacture  of  them  is  tedious,  requiring  much 
care  and  patience.  Besides,  there  were  so  many  American 
tourists, -before  the  present  war,  constantly  passing  through 
Florence,  as  to  make  a  constant  good,  fair  retail  demand  for 
them.  Cheap  ones  could  be  purchased  from  two  to  ten  francs 
each,  of  course  unmounted,  while  the  price  of  the  more 
beautiful  ranged  from  fifteen  to  sixty  francs.  We  purchased 
an  elegant  one  for  a  lady's  pin  at  forty-five,  which,  as  usual, 
was  marked  fifty,  and  which  a  native  might  possibly  have 
bought  for  forty.  The  difference  in  the  price  of  Italian  and 
American  labor  was  discovered  in  the  price  charged  by  a 


524  MEDICEAN   CHAPEL. 

Boston  jeweller  in  setting  up  this  bauble  in  the  yUif.  jo*-  possi- 
ble style,  which  nearly  trebled  its  price. 

After  having  visited  the  mosaic  shops,  tho  tourist  is,  in  a 
measure,  prepared  for  the  elaborate  specii/ir'jns  of  the  art 
which  are  exhibited  in  the  construction  vA  the  Medisean 
Chapel,  which  is  attached  to  the  Church  of  ^an  Lorenzo,  and 
which  is  the  most  extravagant  and  costly  interior  of  its  kind 
that  can  possibly  be  imagined.  It  is  a  huge  octagonal  room, 
surmounted  by  a  beautiful  cupola  elegantly  painted  in  fresco : 
the  scenes  are  of  various  scriptural  subjects,  such  as  Adam 
and  Eve,  the  crucifixion,  resurrection,  last  judgment,  &c. 

The  lofty  sides  of  this  chapel  or  costly  mausoleum,  to  the 
grand  ducal  family,  are  completely  sheathed  in  the  richest  mar- 
bles, elegantly  polished  jasper  and  chalcedony,  glittering  agate 
of  different  colors,  malachite,  and  lapis  lazuli.  All  around,  ris- 
ing tier  above  tier,  are  sarcophagi  and  cenotaphs  of  the  Medici, 
wrought  from  the  richest  and  costliest  stone,  polished  to  a 
mirror-like  surface,  and  decorated  with  unparalleled  richness. 
At  different  points  in  the  walls  were  the  armorial  bearings  of 
different  families,  the  shields,  the  richest  and  most  beautiful 
Florentine  mosaic  work  imaginable,  even  carnelian  and  coral 
being  employed  in  some  of  the  coats  to  give  the  proper  shad- 
ings to  the  elegant  emblematical  designs.  The  sarcophagi 
are  inscribed  each  with  the  name  of  the  illustrious  personage 
whose  ashes  they  represent  the  casket  of,  the  remains  of  the 
different  grand  dukes  being  deposited  in  a  crypt  below  this 
chapel.  A  representation  of  a  large  cushion,  upon  which 
rests  the  ducal  crown,  all  carved  from  colored  stone,  is  a  most 
wonderful  work  of  art,  and  the  beautiful  tomb  of  Cosimo  II., 
by  John  of  Bologna,  rich  and  elegant.  This  wondrous  funeral 
chamber,  in  costly  marble,  sparkling  with  precious  stones  and 
elegant  decorations,  is  said  to  have  cost  over  seventeen  mil- 
lions of  dollars,  and,  as  a  distinguished  writer  remarks,  "  re- 
calls our  youthful  visions  of  Aladdin's  palace." 

He  who  takes  pleasure  in  visiting  old  churches  and  cathe- 
drals may  keep  tolerably  busy  for  many  days,  even  weeks, 
in  Florence ;  as  for  ourselves,  we  found  the  plethora  of  scrip- 


UNPOPULARITY    OF    THE    PRIESTS.  525 

tural  pictures,  architectural  effects,  and  wondrous  carvings, 
memorial  cenotaphs,  and  historical  relics  was  beginning  to 
work  confusion  in  our  mind,  and  destroy  the  pleasant  effect 
of  those  already  viewed ;  it  was,  therefore,  not  without  reluc- 
tance that  we  gave  up  our  design  of  seeing  all  the  churches  in 
Florence ;  indeed,  we  cannot  undertake,  in  the  space  of  these 
pages,  to  attempt  description  of  all  that  we  did  see  in  this 
city,  so  crammed  with  objects  of  interest  to  the  lover  of  art 
or  enthusiastic  tourist.  The  old  church  and  convent  of  San 
Marco,  with  its  pictures  by  Fra  Angelico,  and  its  convent, 
into  which  no  female  tourist  is  admitted;  Santa  Maria  Novella, 
full  of  pictures  and  frescoes ;  Santo  Spirito  and  others,  will 
give  the  traveller  all  he  wants  of  the  wonders  of  Florence's 
religious  edifices,  and  he  may  also  find,  as  we  did,  that  there 
is  apparently  more  thoroughly  honest  support,  or  we  may 
say  blind  attachment,  to  the  Romish  church  by  its  adherents 
in  the  city  of  New  York,  than  in  this  Roman  Catholic  Italian 
city.  The  better  jtortion  of  the  common  people  have  lost 
respect  for  the  idle  priests  by  whom  they  have  been  sur- 
rounded, and  several  with  whom  we  conversed  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  express  their  hopes  in  favor  of  Garibaldi,  and  that  he 
might  ere  long  "  drive  out  the  pope  from  Rome,  who  ought 
to  wield  no  temporal  power." 

The  carriage-driver,  who  drove  us  about  to  var-ious  sacred 
edifices,  and  who  spoke  French  tolerably,  bent  his  knee 
reverently  when  passing  the  high  altar,  but,  on  finding  the 
portals  of  one  church  closed,  left,  with  not  very  pious  ejacula- 
tions, to  find  the  attendant  jniest  to  admit  us,  vowing  that 
they  did  more  eating  than  kneeling,  more  drinking  than  pray- 
ing, and  were  of  more  injury  than  service  to  Italy.  Rather 
strong  expressions  these  appeared  to  us  from  an  Italian 
Romanist,  in  one  of  the  strongholds  of  the  church ;  but  judg- 
ing from  recent  accounts  from  Rome,  some  of  this  pious  indi- 
vidual's wishes  respecting  the  head  of  the  church  appear  like- 
ly to  be  gratified. 

The  surfeit  of  art  in  Florence  fairly  confounds  the  Amer- 
ican tourist  who  has  any  taste  that  way,  and  who  has  re- 


526  PITTI   PALACE. 

solved  to  give,  in  his  fashion  of  reckoning,  the  liberal  time  of 
eight  or  ten  days  to  seeing  the  city  and  its  treasures.  The 
splendid  Pitti  Palace  contains  a  better  collection  of  paintings, 
as  a  whole,  than  the  Uffizi  Gallery.  They  are  also  well  ar- 
ranged ;  and  O,  boon  to  sight-seers !  chairs  and  sofas  are 
placed  in  various  places,  where  one  may  rest  the  tired  limbs 
and  aching  vertebra?. 

Besides  vestibules,  corridors,  &c,  there  are  fifteen  grand 
halls,  named  from  the  heathen  deities,  and  each  elegantly  dec- 
orated in  great  frescoes  on  the  ceiling,  illustrative  of  the  deity 
for  which  it  is  named.  Thus  the  Hall  of  Mars  has  its  ceiling 
decorated  with  battle  scenes,  and  allegorical  figures  of  War, 
Peace,  and  Victory.  The  Hall  of  Jupiter  has  a  grand  paint- 
ing of  Hercules  presenting  some  other  individual  to  the 
Thunderer,  and  the  Hall  of  the  Iliad  has  scenes  from  the 
Homeric  poem. 

Here,  in  the  Hall  of  Venus,  we  saw  great  views  of  coast 
scenery  from  Salvator  Rosa's  pencil,  Titian's  Marriage  of  St. 
Catherine,  and  splendid  landscapes  from  the  industrious  brush 
of  Rubens. 

In  the  Hall  of  Apollo  are  a  splendid  Bacchus  by  Guido,  a 
Virgin  and  Child  by  Murillo,  portraits  by  Raphael  and  Rem- 
brandt. 

In  the  Hall  of  Mars  are  Andrea  del  Sarto's  Joseph  and  his 
Brethren,  two  pictures  of  great  beauty  —  Guido's  Rebekah 
at  the  Well,  a  St.  Peter,  also  by  Guido ;  and  here  also  is  an- 
other one  of  those  celebrated  pictures,  known  the  world  over 
from  the  engravings  of  it  that  are  distributed  by  thousands 
throughout  Christendom  —  the  Madonna  del  Seggiola,  or  Sit- 
ting Madonna,  the  Mother  seated  with  the  infant  Saviour  in 
her  arms,  and  infant  St.  John  at  her  side.  The  rare  beauty 
of  these  little  infantile  forms,  and  sweet,  holy,  motherly  ex- 
pression of  the  mother's  face,  the  lovely  tenderness  of  the  at- 
titude, and  withal,  the  wondrous  expression  of  beauty  upon 
the  children's  faces,  one  can  only  see  in  the  painting,  for  no 
idea  of  its  artistic  power  can  be  had  from  any  engraving  I 
ever  saw. 


HALLS    OF    THE    GODS.  527 

In  the  Hall  of  Jupiter  the  Three  Fates  by  Michael  Angelo, 
a  picture  of  great  power,  at  once  arrests  the  attention,  and  a 
grand  and  beautiful  figure  of  St.  Mark,  by  Fra  Bartolomeo,  is 
a  creation  one  can  almost  boAV  in  reverence  to.  Then  there 
is  a  portrait  of  a  lady  with  a  book,  painted  by  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  which  excites  admiration  by  its  exquisite  coloring  and 
lovely  beauty.  In  this  room  is  a  large  picture  of  an  animated 
and  somewhat  singular  scene  by  Rubens,  which  is  described 
in  the  catalogues  as  nymphs  assailed  by  satyrs,  in  which  the 
latter  are  behaving  in  a  manner  so  disagreeable  that  you  long 
to  get  at  the  lecherous  rascals  with  a  bayonet  or  a  cowhide. 

The  Hall  of  Saturn  contains  some  of  Raphael's  finest  pro- 
ductions. Prominent  among  them  is  the  Madonna  del  Bal- 
dachino,  in  which  she  is  represented  enthroned,  seated  at  the 
summit  of  a  flight  of  steps  at  the  end  of  a  temple,  and  be- 
neath a  canopy  which  is  being  drawn  aside  by  two  angels. 
Four  church  dignitaries  in  their  robes  stand  at  the  foot  of  the 
thi-one,  near  which  are  two  angels.  The  picture  is  of  interest 
apart  from  its  beauty,  as  being  one  of  the  earlier  works  of  the 
great  artist.  Among  his  other  pictures  in  this  hall  are  the 
portrait  of  Pope  Julius  II.,  a  superb  piece  of  coloring,  his 
portrait  of  a  Cardinal,  and  the  Vision  of  Ezekiel. 

Another  fine  picture  of  the  Virgin  Enthroned  is  in  the  Hall 
of  the  Iliad,  painted  by  Fra  Bartolomeo.  Here  also  are  two 
pictures  of  the  Assumption  by  Del  Sarto,  a  full-length  portrait 
of  Philip  II.  of  Spain  by  Titian,  Carlo  Dolce's  St..  John  the 
Evangelist  and  St.  Martha,  a  noble  figure  of  a  Warrior  by 
Salvator  Rosa,  a  Holy  Family  by  Rubens,  and  Susanna  and 
the  Elders,  a  fine  composition,  by  Guercino. 

Next  comes  the  Hall  of  Jupiter,  and  in  this  the  pictures  of 
the  rarest  merit  are  Fra  Bartolomeo's  Holy  Family,  Raphael's 
lovely  painting  of  the  Madonna  and  Child,  and  Carlo  Dolce's 
painting  of  St.  Andrew. 

The  Hall  of  Ulysses  is  rich  in  pictures  from  the  pencils  of 
Carlo  Dolce,  Salvator  Rosa,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  Rubens,  Titian, 
and  Tintoretto. 

The  Hall  of  Prometheus,  besides  holy  families,  virgins,  and 


528  TREASURES  OF  THE  TALACE. 

saints  by  the  great  masters,  shows  vis  magnificent  tables  of 
Florentine  mosaic  of  immense  value,  and  the  cabinets  and 
corridor  adjoining  have  a  large  collection  of  choice  articles  of 
vertu,  cabinet  paintings,  and  a  grand  colossal  bust  of  the  first 
Napoleon  by  Canova. 

Then  there  is  the  Hall  of  Justice,  with  its  complement  of 
paintings,  including  Sir  Peter  Lelyrs  portrait  of  Oliver  Crom- 
well ;  the  Hall  of  Flora,  containing  the  statue  of  Canova's 
Venus  —  an  exquisite  piece  of  sculpture,  grace  and  beauty  in 
every  line  of  its  form.  Other  halls  and  cabinets,  which  I  will 
not  tire  the  reader's  patience  by  enumerating,  but  each  of 
which  was  rich  with  gems  of  art,  the  choicest  of  the  great 
masters. 

Not  only  were  the  walls,  which  were  hung  with  these  treas- 
ures, of  interest,  but  the  frescoes  on  the  ceilings  of  the  grand 
apartments,  which  were  superbly  executed.  The  gods  and 
goddesses  of  heathen  mythology,  and  allegorical  figures, 
crowded  the  space  above  —  an  army  of  wondrous  giants, 
attracting  the  visitor's  gaze  upwards  till  both  neck  and  spine 
are  weary.  The  costly  mosaic  tables  are  wrought  with  fig- 
ures of  birds,  fruit,  and  flowers,  and  their  value  is  measured 
by  tens  of  thousands  of  dollars.  Then  we  have  bronzes  and 
statuary,  elegant  miniatures,  Sevres  vases,  carvings,  and  arti- 
cles of  vertu,  making  the  whole  of  this  beautiful  palace  one 
treasure-house  of  art.  Attached  to  the  palace  are  the  beauti- 
ful Boboli  Gardens,  with  their  picturesque  walks  and  arbors, 
elegant  statues,  plashing  fountains,  and  grand  groups  of 
statuary,  wonderful  plants,  beautiful  vistas  of  embowered 
walks,  and  magnificent  terraces  and  vases,  which  will  tempt 
one  for  hours  with  their  picturesque  beauty. 

Determined  to  feast  our  fill  of  fine  art,  we  also  visited  the 
Academy  of  Fine  Arts  —  an  interesting  collection  of  beauti- 
ful pictures,  ancient  and  modern,  forming  in  itself  one  of  the 
great  attractions  of  Florence,  to  say  nothing  of  the  interest- 
ing antiquities  of  the  Egyptian  Museum,  the  literary  curiosi- 
ties of  the  Laurentian  Library,  or  the  wonders  of  the  great 
Museum  of  Natural  History. 


TIIE    CASCINE.  529 

Of  course  we  wandered  through  the  streets  of  Florence, 
visited  Doney's  celebrated  cafe  in  a  broad  street,  which  at  five 
in  the  afternoon  is  nearly  shielded  from  the  sun  by  the  shade 
from  the  tall  buildings;  and  then  it  is  that  the  young  men, 
the  young  bloods  of  the  city,  begin  to  come  down  to  the  cafes 
for  their  daily  lounge,  and  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  eat  the 
luxurious  ices  and  delicious  confectionery,  and  watch  the 
strollers.  Out-of-door  life  becomes  quite  brisk  at  from  five  to 
six,  and  everybody  seems  riding  and  walking,  and  they  keep 
up  the  latter,  as  we  found,  till  a  late  hour  of  the  night ;  for 
the  windows  of  the  room  of  our  hotel,  looking  upon  one  of 
the  great  streets,  gave  us  the  full  benefit  of  that  unceasing 
clatter  of  feet,  that  lasts  in  these  places  till  long  after  the 
noise  of  vehicles  has  ceased,  and  the  Campanile  bells  begin  to 
chime  the  first  hours  of  morning. 

We  found  the  Cascine  a  delightful  resort  of  a  pleasant 
September  afternoon.  This  is  a  beautifully  laid  out  park 
along  the  banks  of  the  River  Arno,  where  a  pleasant  ramble 
may  be  had  beneath  the  deep  shade  of  forest  trees  and  on 
velvety-green  turf.  But  the  chief  attraction  in  the  afternoon 
is  the  drive  along  its  great  carriage  roads,  to  view  the  numer- 
ous equipages  of  every  nationality  and  description  that  fre- 
quent them.  It  is  really  an  interesting  study  to  view  the  solid 
old  establishments  of  English  residents,  with  driver  and  foot- 
men, the  young  English  bloods  driving  those  heavily-timbered 
vehicles  of  theirs,  which  they  seem  to  have  invented  for  the 
jmrpose  of  taking  their  valets  out  to  ride,  and  showing  the 
neatness  of  their  livery,  the  length  of  their  whips,  and  the 
points  of  the  horse  attached  to  the  clumsy  gundalow.  Then 
there  were  beautiful  coroneted  barouches,  of  great  taste  and 
elegance,  officers  in  rich  uniforms  on  horseback,  and  crowds 
of  pedestrians  —  an  ever-shifting,  ever-changing  scene.  To 
get  views  of  enchanting  beauty,  pictures  in  Italian  sunshine, 
ride  up  the  hill,  and  past  the  beautiful  private  residences,  till 
you  reach  Fiesole  Fortress,  a  thousand  feet  above  Florence, 
where  you  may  look  down  upon  its  roofs  and  spires,  the  sur- 
rounding country,  the  luxuriant  gardens  of  the  private  villas 
34 


530  POWERS    THE    SCULPTOR. 

upon  the  hill-side,  the  winding  Arno,  and  the  peaks  of  the 
Apennines  in  the  distance. 

The  grounds  of  private  residences  and  villas  just  out  of 
Florence  were  invisible  from  the  road,  by  reason  of  the  high 
walls  which  surround  them ;  and  it  is  only  after  we  really  leave 
the  city  behind  that  we  get  fair  eye-sweep  of  these  delight- 
ful places,  which  add  so  much  to  the  attractiveness  of  the 
outskirts.  We  chanced  to  be  in  Florence  in  the  grape  sea- 
son, and  the  heaps  of  this  luxurious  fruit  that  were  piled  up 
in  the  market-places  were  pleasant  to  look  upon  —  Muscats, 
sweetwaters,  black  Hamburgs  —  great,  luscious  bunches ! 
Half  a  dozen  cents  would  buy  a  lapful  of  them.  Then 
there  were  peaches,  piles  of  figs  and  pomegranates,  and 
other  fruits.  The  Italian  flower  girls,  whom  we  have  read 
of  so  often,  and  seen  so  romantically  represented  in  pictures, 
are,  in  reality,  bold,  hard-featured  women,  with  nothing  pic- 
turesque or  pretty  about  them,  persistent  in  their  importuni- 
ties, and  often  with  gaunt  want  written  in  their  features. 
They  are  most  numerous  on  the  Cascine,  when  the  band 
plays,  offering  their  bouquets  at  the  carriage  windows  and  to 
passers  by. 

But  we  must  leave  Florence  and  its  attractions,  not,  how- 
ever, without  a  kind  hand-grasp  with  Hiram  Powers,  the 
American  sculptor,  who,  although  he  has  lived  in  Italy  thirty 
years,  is  as  loyal  and  true  an  American  as  one  new  come  to 
Florence.  His  beautiful  statues  of  California,  Faith,  Hope, 
Charity,  the  Greek  Slave,  &c,  in  various  stages  of  work, 
from  the  rough  ashler  to  the  perfectly  developed  figure,  and 
all  the  departments  of  the  sculptor's  work-shop,  were  sIioavd 
to  us  by  the-  great  artist  in  working  cap  and  apron,  for  he  de- 
lights to  meet  his  fellow-countrymen,  though  I  fear  they  must 
make  sad  inroads  upon  his  time  during  the  travelling  season  ; 
this,  however*  may  be  compensated  for,  in  a  degree,  by  ordere- 
received  for  copies  of  his  works  from  visitors.  The  beautiful 
busts  of  the  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity  figures  are  popular 
with  those  who  wish  to  preserve  a  specimen  of  the  great 
sculptor's  work,  and  can  afford  one  hundred  guineas  to  grat- 
ify their  taste  in  that  direction. 


TOWER   OF   PISA.  531 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

One  of  the  earliest  pictures  of  scenes  in  foreign  lands  that 
I  remember  to  have  looked  upon,  was  the  Leaning  Tower  at 
Pisa;  this  and  the  renowned  Porcelain  Tower  at  Pekin  always 
came  in  for  a  good  share  of  wonder  and  speculation;  the 
latter,  when  a  boy,  I  firmly  believed  to  be  built  of  precisely 
similar  material  as  that  of  the  tea  set  of  a  certain  aunt  in  the 
country,  which  she  only  paraded  on  state  occasions,  and  which 
being  thin,  delicate,  and  translucent,  no  piece  was  intrusted 
to  my  juvenile  fingers,  which  were  only  permitted  to  embrace 
a  china  mug  that  appeared  amazingly  cheap  in  comparison. 

That  old  picture,  in  the  geography,  of  the  Leaning  Tower, 
which  awakened  a  desire  to  see  it  never  to  be  extinguished,  is 
like  dozens  of  other  similar  wood-cuts,  which  make  an  indelible 
impression  upon  the  mind  of  youth,  and  you  feel,  when  gaz- 
ing upon  the  reality  for  the  first  time,  like  greeting  an  old 
acquaintance ;  or  rather  the  impression  is  like  the  first  personal 
introduction  to  a  correspondent  whom  you  have  known  many 
years  only  by  letter. 

Though  the  general  form  and  appearance  of  the  Leaning 
Tower  of  Pisa  were  familiar  in  my  mind,  I  was  not  prepared 
for  the  surprisingly  graceful  beauty  of  the  structure,  which  is 
of  white  marble ;  and  though  it  was  built  nearly  seven  hun- 
dred years  ago,  it  is  remarkably  clear  and  fresh-looking.  The 
very  decided  lean  is  at  once  observable  on  approaching  it ; 
indeed,  you  experience  something  of  an  uncomfortable  sensa- 
tion on  being  at  the  side  where  it  appears  to  be  ready  to  fall. 
Its  beauty  consists  in  its  being  a  perfect  cylinder  of  fifty-three 
feet  in  diameter,  and  one  hundred  and  seventy-nine  feet  high  ; 
this  great  cylinder  being  formed  of  eight  regular  tiers  of 
columns,  supporting  graceful  arches,  one  above  the  other,  and 
forming  as  many  open  marble  galleries  running  round  the 


532  FOUR  WONDERS   OF  PISA. 

tower,  the  whole  surmounted  with  a  graceful  open-arched 
tower  or  belfry,  giving  it  the  appearance  of  a  tall  marble 
column  sculptured  into  circles  of  open  arches  and  pillars. 

We  started  for  the  summit,  an  easy  ascent  of  two  hundred 
and  ninety-five  steps,  occasionally  going  out  upon  the  outside 
galleries,  which  project  some  seven  or  eight  feet  on  each 
story,  till  we  reach  the  belfry,  where  seven  bells  are  hung, 
the  largest  weighing  nearly  twelve  thousand  pounds;  this 
tower,  as  is  well-known,  being  the  companile,  or  bell-tower, 
of  the  cathedral  close  at  hand.  A  few  moments  among  the 
bells,  and  we  climb  above  them  to  the  summit  of  the  tower, 
where  the  iron  rail  that  protects  the  edge  is  grasped  nervous- 
ly as  we  approach  and  look  over  the  leaning  side,  where* 
without  its  aid,  the  feeling  is,  that  one  would  positively  slip 
off  from  the  slant;  indeed,  a  glance  downward  and  at  the 
tower  itself,  from  this  point,  produces  a  terrific  sensation,  — 
that  it  is  slowly  moving  from  the  j^erpendicular  on  its  course 
to  the  earth  below.  It  is,  therefore,  quite  natural  that  most 
tourists  should  take  their  views  of  the  surrounding  country 
from  the  top  of  the  Leaning  Tower,  as  we  did,  from  its  up- 
per side. 

The  view  from  the  summit  is  very  fine,  taking  in  the  city 
of  Pisa  directly  beneath,  the  surrounding  country,  distant 
mountains,  and  hill-sides,  with  beautiful  villas  and  vineyards. 
"Far  off  in  the  distance,  in  one  direction,  we  saw  the  blue 
waters  of  the  Mediterranean,  twelve  miles  and  more  away, 
heaving  in  the  sunshine,  with  the  white  sails  of  ships  gliding 
upon  its  bosom,  and  the  city  of  Leghorn  at  its  shore,  with 
the  masts  of  the  vessels  in  port,  and  its  light-house,  all  dis- 
tinctly visible.  After  a  thorough  enjoyment  of  the  scene, 
we  descended  to  view  the  cathedral,  Campo  Santo  and 
Baptistery. 

Here,  in  one  grand  square,  within  a  stone's  throw  of  each 
other,  are  the  four  wonders  of  Pisa;  the  great  Duomo,  or 
cathedral,  the  Baptistery,  the  Campo  Santo,  and  the  Leaning 
Tower  —  standing  in  a  magnificent  group  by  themselves  in 
the  open  space,  rendering  all  else  near  them  shrunken,  petty, 


THE   DUOMO.  533 

and  insignificant  by  their  beauty  and  superb  finish.  These 
glorious  structures  seem  like  the  newly-created  wonders  of 
some  magical  workman,  who  has  placed  them  here  together 
in  the  quiet  old  city  for  the  tourists  of  all  nations  to  come 
and  gaze  upon,  admire,  wonder,  and  depart. 

The  cathedral  is  an  elegant  specimen  of  beautiful  architec- 
ture in  marble.  Like  all  buildings  of  the  kind,  it  is  built  in 
the  form  of  a  Latin  cross,  and  is  three  hundred  and  eleven 
feet  long  in  the  nave  and  two  hundred  and  thirty-eight  in  the 
transepts.  The  height  of  the  building  is  one  hundred  and 
twelve  feet,  and  above  its  first  story  rises  a  series  of  pillars 
supporting  arches,  the  last  two  of  a  series  of  four,  when  the 
facade  is  viewed  from  the  square,  making  the  building  to  look 
like  a  square  structure  lifting  a  Grecian  temple  into  the  air 
upon  its  lofty  walls,  or  like  an  end  view  of  that  ideal  picture 
that  used  to  be  delineated  as  Solomon's  Temple  in  the  old 
family  Bibles. 

The  great  dome  rises  from-  the  centre,  surrounded  by  a 
ring  of  eighty-eight  pillars  supporting  an  elegant  ring  of 
pointed  work  above  them,  and  surmounted  by  a  cupola. 
Inside  the  scene  is  elegant ;  the  great  centre  nave,  over  forty 
feet  wide,  with  twenty-four  Corinthian  columns  of  red  granite, 
twelve  on  a  side,  and  each  one  a  single  block  of  stone,  twenty- 
five  feet  high,  on  a  great  pedestal  over  six  feet  high,  and 
above  these  another  series  of  columns,  smaller  and  more 
numerous,  forming  the  upper  cloister  corridor,  or  "Nuns 
Walk,"  as  they  call  it  in  the  old  English  cathedrals,  all  lift- 
ing the  grand  roof  ninety  feet  above  the  pavement. 

In  the  centre,  on  four  great  arches,  rises  the  grand  dome, 
richly  decorated ;  on  either  side  are  the  aisles,  their  roof  sup- 
ported by  fifty  Corinthian  columns,  while  above,  the  roof 
gleams  with  mosaics  set  in  golden  ground-work.  On  every 
side  are  interesting  works  of  art  which  will  attract  the  atten- 
tion; elegant  paintings,  among  them  those  of  Andrea  del 
Sarto ;  the  high  altar,  a  rich  structure  in  costly-Avrought  mar- 
ble, the  flowers,  running  vines,  and  chiselled  cherubs  beauti- 
ful to  look  upon ;  the  rich  carved  wood-work  of  the  stalls,  in 


534  Galileo's  lamp. 

the  choir ;  the  stained-glass  windows ;  the  rich  frescoes  of  the 
cupola;  elegant  monuments,  statues,  and  beautiful  chapels, 
with  their  rich  altars  and  paintings,  all  contribute  to  render 
the  interior  elegant  and  attractive.  At  one  end  of  the  nave, 
as  we  were  passing  out,  we  were  shown  the  great  bronze 
chandelier,  suspended  from  the  roof  by  a  cable  nearly  eighty 
feet  long,  the  regular  swaying  of  which  is  said  to  have  sug- 
gested the  theory  of  the  pendulum  to  Galileo. 

"  What ! "  said  I  to  the  guide,  "  is  this  the  very  lamp  ?  " 

"  The  very  same,  monsieur." 

"But  it  appears  too  huge,  too  heavy  to  swing." 

"Ah,  monsieur,  it  moves  quite  easily." 

But  I  was  an  unbelieving  Thomas;  so,  lingering  behind 
the  group,  Avhen  the  guide's  back  was  turned,  I  reached  up, 
and  with  my  umbrella  gave  the  lower  part  of  the  great  bronze  a 
strong  push.  Down  came  a  shower  of  dust  from  the  creases  of 
the  great  cable;  the  huge  lamp  began  a  grand,  majestic  swing, 
and  I  was  ready  to  exclaim,  in  the  words  of  the  great  mathe- 
matician himself,  "  Yet  it  moves ; "  and  it  did  "  move  quite 
easily,"  continued  its  oscillations,  back  and  forth,  to  such  an 
extent  that  I  thought  it  safe  to  move  myself  at  once  from 
beneath  the  huge  pendule,  which  I  did  forthwith,  quite  satis- 
fied that  it  swung  for  Galileo,  and  might  come  down  for 
myself. 

This  Duomo  was  completed  in  the  Year  1118,  and  the  bap- 
tistery, which  we  next  visited,  was  founded  in  1253,  as  an  in- 
scription upon  it  informed  us.  It  seems  that  a  cathedral  in 
those  early  days,  notwithstanding  its  vast  size,  generally  had  a 
superb  tower  erected  for  its  bells,  —  a  structure  by  itself, — and 
another  of  grand  porportions  for  the  baptism  and  christening 
of  children.  The  baptistery  here  at  Pisa  is  a  perfectly  round 
building,  of  marble,  looking  like  a  great  cathedral  dome  set 
upon  the  ground ;  but  it  is  a  dome  one  hundred  and  seventy- 
nine  feet  high  and  one  hundred  feet  diameter  inside  the  walls, 
which  are  nearly  nine  feet  thick. 

The  exterior  above  the  first  story  is  surrounded  by  rings 
of  elegant  pillars  and  pointed  pediments.     The  whole  of  the 


THE    BAPTISTERY.  535 

interior  seems  sheathed  with  polished  marble,  so  exquisitely 
matched  and  joined  as  to  appear  almost  seamless.  You 
stand,  as  it  were,  in  a  huge  dome,  hollowed  out  of  marble. 
A  grand  circular  font,  fourteen  feet  in  diameter,  stands  in  the 
centre.  We  saw  here  the  magnificently  carved  pulpit,  exe- 
cuted by  Nicolo  Pisano,  in  12G0.  It  is  hexagon  in  form, 
supported  by  seven  pillars,  which,  in  turn,  are  supported  by 
sculptured  figures  of  lions,  griffins,  &c.  But  it  is  the  sculp- 
tures in  bass-relief  upon  its  sides  that  are  most  wonderful, 
from  their  elaborate  detail,  which  must  have  cost  an  age  of 
patience  and  labor  in  their  execution.  They  represent  the 
Nativity,  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  Crucifixion,  Last  Judgment, 
&c.  The  echoes  in  this  circular  baptistery  are  something 
quite  remarkable.  The  guide,  a  fellow  with  a  musical  tenor 
voice,  sang  a  note  or  two,  and  it  came  back  to  us  "  a  whole 
gamut  filled  with  heavenly  notes."  Another  sang  a  bar, 
primo  basso,  and  the  polished  walls  returned  it,  like  the  mel- 
lowed peals  of  a  full-voiced  organ.  This  magical  music  was 
as  charming  as  novel,  and  an  extemporaneous  concert  was 
enjoyed  here  before  leaving. 

We  next  go  over  to  the  Campo  Santo,  or  Holy  Field, 
which  renowned  cemetery  is  enclosed  by  cloisters  opening 
into  the  holy  ground,  the  fronts  of  these  cloisters  facing  the 
open  space  of  the  interior  being  arched  and  roofed  over, 
forming  a  covered  promenade  in  the  form  of  a  parallelogram, 
the  whole  enclosure  being  four  hundred  and  fifteen  feet  long 
and  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven  wide.  The  centre,  within 
the  cloister  enclosure,  was  open  overhead.  The  earth  here, 
it  will  be  remembered,  every  handful  of  it  for  I  do  not  know 
how  many  feet  deep,  came  from  Mount  Calvary,  being  brought 
by  a  prelate  whom  that  fierce  and  powerful  Saracen,  Sal- 
adin,  expelled  from  his  dominions  about  the  year  l-200,  and 
who,  compelled  to  eat  dirt,  revenged  himself  by  carrying  off 
fifty  or  sixty  ship-loads  of  it.  It  was  deposited  here,  made 
holy  ground,  and  duly  consecrated ;  and  to  make  the  burial 
lots  go  off  more  lively,  probably,  the  story  was  given  out  — 
which   is   still   told  —  that   +he   earth   had   the   property  of 


536  CAMP0    SANTO. 

reducing  dead  bodies '  to  dust  in  twenty-four  hours.  Of 
course,  the  rush  to  get  in  —  or  rather,  of  friends  to  get  their 
deceased  relatives  in  —  was  great.  Only  great  people  could 
come  down  with  their  dust,  and  very  seldom  is  it  that  any 
interments  are  made  here  now.  One  would  naturally  sup- 
pose that  a  burial-ground  of  these  dimensions  would  become 
a  little  crowded  in  six  hundred  and  seventy  years,  unless 
population  was  sparse,  and  some  restrictions  were  made. 

The  covered  arcade,  or  arched  cloisters,  which  extend 
around  the  sides  forty-six  feet  high,  and  thirty-four  feet  wide 
contain  many  interesting  monuments.  Among  them  we 
noticed  Count  Cavour's,  and  one  to  Madame  Catalani,  the 
singer,  and  a  monument  to  the  Countess  Beatrice. 

The  walls  of  the  cloisters  are  celebrated  for  their  frescoes, 
many  of  which  are  fine  specimens  of  the  art,  but  all  more  or 
less  injured  by  the  action  of  dampness  or  the  air.  The  sub- 
jects are  from  Scripture,  or  monkish  legends.  The  most 
noted  and  striking  is  the  Triumph  of  Death,  in  which  the 
grisly  king  of  terrors  is  allegorically  brought  before  the 
spectator  in  a  most  striking  manner,  in  various  ways,  such  as 
the  exhibition  of  three  coffins,  and  their  ghastly  tenants,  as  a 
warning  to  three  kings ;  Death  swooping  down,  scythe  in 
hand,  upon  a  party  of  youths  and  maidens ;  kings,  warriors, 
and  prelates  yielding  to  the  fell  destroyer,  and  angels  and 
demons  bearing  their  souls  off  in  different  directions. 

Reaching  Spezzia  at  nine  P.  M.,  after  a  day's  sight-seeing 
in  Pisa,  srave  us  little  time  to  do  else  than  to  obtain  much- 
needed  refreshment,  look  at  a  beautiful  moonlight  view  of  the 
harbor,  and  engage  a  private  travelling  carriage  for  our  jour- 
ney over  the  Ajtennines  next  morning.  At  six  o'clock  we 
started,  and  as  we  gradually  left  the  city  behind,  on  our  rising 
road,  had  a  fine  sunrise  view  of  its  beautiful  harbor,  with 
English,  French,  and  American  vessels  at  anchor,  with  their 
national  flags  flying.  The  scenery  among'  these  mountains 
differs  from  that  of  Switzerland.  The  mountains  themselves 
seem  of  a  golden  bronze  color  in  the  sunlight,  from  the  color 
of  the  earth,  which  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  Spanish  brown. 


OVER    THE    APENNINES.  537 

And  again,  there  are  long  ranges  and  graceful  peaks,  the 
sides  of  which  are  clad  in  light  verdure,  but  no  trees,  which 
appear  to  he  of  a  delicate  pea-green,  shaded  with  rich  red, 
brown,  and  bronze,  from  the  color  of  the  rock  and  earth. 
There  were  great  ranges  of  mountains,  stretching  off  in  the 
distance,  like  fading  sunset  clouds,  transformed  into  moun- 
tains —  a  most  beautiful  effect. 

Up  we  went,  by  the  zigzags  of  the  mountain  road,  sur- 
rounded by  superb  scenery  of  hill,  and  crag,  and  distant 
range,  till  finally  we  came  in  sight  of  the  great  Mediterra- 
nean, thousands  of  feet  below  us,  flecked  with  the  white  sails 
of  ships  and  boats  in  every  direction.  Far  on  the  extreme 
edge  of  its  blue  plain  crept  a  steamer,  leaving  a  long  trail  of 
smoke  behind,  like  a  dark  serpent.  Then  every  few  miles, 
turns  in  the  road  would  bring  us  in  view  of  little  seaports 
beneath,  with  their  half-circle  harbors,  light-houses,  and  white 
walls  standing  out  conspicuously  on  the  deep  blue  of  the  sea, 
while  the  feluccas  and  great  lateen  sails,  gliding  into  their 
ports,  reminded  one  strikingly  of  panoramic  views  and  paint- 
ings, or  of  those  brilliant  blue  and  white  pictures  of  Mediter- 
ranean seaports  which  we  sometimes  see  suspended  in  mer- 
chants' countinsr-rooms  in  America. 

The  ride  was  interesting,  charming,  and  exhilarating ;  for, 
far  off  upon  one  side  of  us  stretched  the  magnificent,  ever 
changing  mountain  soenery,  and  at  the  other,  far  down  below, 
was  the  beautiful  sea  view,  with  numerous  ports,  clusters  of 
shipping,  and  pretty  indentations,  while  the  road  itself  was 
smooth,  hard,  and  in  good  condition,  and  our  carriage  rattled 
over  it  at  the  full  trot,  to  the  occasional  music  of  the  whip- 
cracks  of  the  driver.  We  lunched,  as  we  descended,  at  a 
wretched  little  Italian  port,  and  walked  down  to  the  sea-side, 
while  our  food  was  in  course  of  preparation,  to  pick  up  peb- 
bles and  get  a  near  view  of  the  Mediterranean,  which,  until 
this  day,  I  had  never  looked  upon  except  on  the  maps  in 
the  school  geographies. 

Continuing  our  journey,  we  passed  hundreds  —  I  may  al- 
most say,  thousands  —  of  a  species  of  cactus  along  by  the 


038  GENOA. 

road-side,  r  inging  in  size  from  that  of  a  soup  plate  to  great 
pointed  blades  eight  feet  in  height.  Upon  one  side  of  the 
road,  a  complete  fence  or  barrier  of  these  plants  was  made, 
of  nearly  a  mile  in  length ;  and  a  very  effective  guard  it  was, 
with  its  tough,  broad  leaves  ranged  close  together,  with  their 
aggressive  and  thorny  blades. 

But  however  pleasant  post-riding  on  the  continent,  over 
one  of  the  mountain  roads,  may  be,  twelve  or  fifteen  hours 
of  it  a  day  become  fatiguing,  and  we  were  not  sorry  when 
our  carriage  rolled  into  the  streets  of  Genoa  at  nine  P.  M., 
and,  after  twisting  round  through  a  dozen  or  more  crooked 
streets,  landed  us  at  the  Hotel  Feder.  "  La  Superba,"  and 
"  City  of  Palaces,"  are  the  ostentatious  titles  that  the  Gen- 
oese have  applied  to  this  place ;  but  one  hardly  gets  an  idea 
of  anything  very  "superb"  down  in  the  old  part  of  the  city, 
where  the  hotels  are  situated,  for  here  the  streets  are  narrow 
—  narrow  as  lanes,  in  fact,  and  not  over-clean.  The  hotel 
Croce  di  Malta  is  one  directly  fronting  the  shipping  and  har- 
bor, and  from  its  great  massive  turrets  we  get  a  fine  view  of 
the  latter.  This  hotel,  a  huge,  castle-like  building,  was,  in 
fact,  a  stronghold  of  the  Knights  of  Malta,  and  from  its  bat- 
tlements they  looked  forth  watchfully  upon  the  sea.  Upon 
this  front  street,  like  those  fronting  the  wharves  in  our  great 
cities,  seem  to  be  the  most  vehicles.  But  as  Ave  recede  into 
the  narrower  streets  of  the  old  town,  vehicles  are  few  in 
number,  and  pedestrians,  loungers,  and  lazzaroni  abundant. 
Our  hotel  is  a  stately  building,  on  an  alley  that  widens  into 
a  square,  from  which  runs  a  narrow  street  lined  with  jewelry 
and  fancy  goods  stores,  in  which  the  elegant  silver  filigree 
work,  which  is  a  specialty  of  Genoa,  is  displayed.  This  fili- 
gree is  composed  of  fine  wires  of  silver,  elegantly  wrought 
and  twisted  into  the  shape  of  wreaths,  flowers,  butterflies, 
and  various  artistic  and  fanciful  figures,  and  is  all  sold  by 
weight.  Although  originally  of  pure  white,  delicate,  frosty- 
looking  silver,  it  is  also  often  electro-plated  with  gold. 

Let  not  the  unsophisticated  reader  imagine,  either,  when 
we  speak  of  a  fancy  goods  or  jewelry  store  in  the  old  city  of 


STEEETS   OF   GENOA.  539 

Genoa,  u  spacious,  well-lighted  establishment,  with  great 
plate-glass  windows,  and  a  forty  or  a  one  hundred  feet  front- 
age. Imagine,  rather,  a  little,  one-windowed,  narrow,  deep, 
dark  store,  in  a  crowded  street,  the  whole  frontage  of  the 
store  door  and  window  not  exceeding  fifteen  or  eighteen  feet, 
and  you  have  it.  The  buildings  on  these  little,  narrow 
streets,  though,  are  of  the  most  massive  character,  seemingly 
built,  as  in  warm  countries,  of  solid  masonry,  to  keep  out  the 
heat,  and  are,  many  of  them,  of  great  height,  while  the  nar- 
row streets  are  most  effectually  shaded  by  them  from  the 
sun.  There  are  but  very  few  vehicles  that  pass  beneath  our 
windows,  or  into  the  square ;  but  the  patter  of  feet,  and  the 
clatter  of  voices  in  the  evening,  are  great. 

Genoa  must  look  beautifully  from  the  sea,  as  it  is  built 
upon  a  height  rising  gradually  some  five  hundred  feet  out 
from  the  shore ;  and,  as  we  get  out  from  the  tortuous  and 
narrow  lanes  of  the  old  city,  the  squares  and  streets  assume 
a  less  antique  and  cramped  appearance.  There  are  three 
great  streets,  the  principal  of  which  is  the  Strada  Nuova, 
which  is  filled  Avith  lofty  and  elegant  buildings,  streets  of 
palaces,  many  of  them  with  unpretending  exteriors,  but  with 
rich  linings.  One  contains  the  most  extensive  collection  of 
engravings  in  Italy — nearly  sixty  thousand ;  another  is  rich 
in  paintings ;  a  third  in  autograph  letters,  and  relics  of  the 
great  navigator,  Christopher  Columbus,  who,  your  guide  will 
be  sure  to  inform  you,  "  deescoovare  Amereeke." 

In  one  of  the  squares  we  saw  the  elegant  marble  monu- 
ment erected  to  him  —  a  circular  shaft,  bearing  his  full-length 
statue  resting  his  hand  upon  a  kneeling  figure,  while  about 
the  base  of  the  column  were  four  other  allegorical  statues,  and 
beautiful  bass-reliefs  upon  the  four  panels. 

The  visitor  may  have  his  feast  of  relics  in  the  cathedral  and 
the  Church  of  St.  Ambrogio,  if  he  desires ;  but,  after  getting 
round  upon  the  "  grand  tour  "  as  far  as  this,  he  will  probably 
find  that  he  has  seen  fragments  enough  of  the  true  cross  to 
have  made  half  a  dozen  of  them,  nails  enough  to  have  filled  a 
keg,  and  bones  enough  of  certain  named  saints  to  have  set  up 
two  or  three  entire  skeletons  of  the  same  individual. 


540  PALLAVICINI   GARDENS. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  places  to  visit  in  the  vicinity  of 
Genoa  is  the  Pallavicini  Gardens,  a  few  miles  out.  These 
gardens,  though  not  remarkably  extensive,  arc  laid  out  in  the 
most  ingenious,  beautiful,  and  expensive  manner.  Arriving 
at  the  villa,  you  ascend  a  flight  of  stairs  in  the  house,  and  step 
out  upon  a  broad  and  magnificent  terrace  of  white  -marble,  from 
which  there  is  one  of  the  most  charming  views  imaginable  of 
Genoa  below,  the  blue  sea  beyond,  and,  far  in  the  distance  the 
peaks  of  Corsican  mountains.  Directly  below  this  terrace  are 
others,  decorated  with  vases  and  broad  flights  of  white  marble 
steps  and  balusters,  and  upon  these  terraces  are  grand  parterres 
of  flowers,  and  tall  orange  and  lemon  trees  growing,  elegant 
camellias  of  every  hue,  roses,  great  rhododendrons,  and  beau- 
tiful azaleas. 

Walking  through  an  avenue  of  flowers  and  shrubbery  from 
here,  you  come  to  an  exquisite  little  Grecian  temple  in  white 
marble,  beautifully  frescoed.  Then  you  pass  through  another 
walk,  arranged  in  Italian  style,  with  beautiful  vases  and  rare 
shrubs.  Another  turning,  and  you  come  to  a  pretty  rustic 
cottage,  with  all  the  surroundings  so  contrived  as  to  make  a 
charming  natural  picture.  You  ascend  a  height,  and  encoun- 
ter a  picturesque  ruined  tower  (artificial),  and  from  the  height 
enjoy  charming  views  in  every  direction.  You  descend  the 
hill,  and  come  to  a  miniature  cavern  of  stalactites,  through 
which  the  guide  conducts  you.  It  is  filled  with  natural  won- 
ders —  crystallizations  and  beautiful  petrifactions,  brought  at 
immense  expense  from  every  part  of  Italy,  and  so  arranged  as 
to  make  an  apparently  natural  formation  —  a  natural  grotto, 
gorgeous  in  the  extreme.  In  the  dark  recesses  of  this  cavern 
you  reach  a  river,  an  ornamental  boat  approaches,  and  you 
are  rowed  silently  through  great  arches  of  gloomy  caverns, 
winding  hither  and  thither,  apparently  into  the  innermost 
bowels  of  the  earth,  until  you  begin  to  fear  the  guide  may 
have  lost  his  way,  when  suddenly  the  boat  shoots  forth  upon 
the  bosom  of  a  charming  little  lake,  surrounded  by  objects  of 
interest  and  beauty  on  every  side. 

The  first  object  that  attracts  the  attention  is  an  artificial 


GARDENING   EFFECTS.  511 

island  in  the  centre  of  the  lake,  upon  which  is  a  beautifully- 
sculptured,  miniature  Temple  of  Diana,  containing  a  statue 
of  the  goddess.  Then  you  come  to  several  small  islands, 
connected  by  means  of  Chinese  bridges,  with  all  the  sur- 
roundings Chinese.  A  Chinese  pagoda,  with  its  gay  sides 
and  bell-tipped  peaks,  rises  near  at  hand.  Chinese  lanterns 
are  suspended,  and  a  bamboo  and  tiled  Chinese  house,  seen 
through  Oriental  shrubbery,  transports  you  in  imagination, 
without  much  effort,  to  the  land  of  the  Celestials. 

At  other  points  in  these  wonderful  gardens  are  similar  arti- 
ficial effects.  One  portion  is  planned  to  represent  Egyptian 
ruins.  A  needle-like  obelisk,  covered  with  hieroglyphics, 
rises  upon  a  sandy  shore,  and  shattered  columns,  friezes,  and 
sculptures  are  strewn  on  the  ground.  Some  rest  in  the  Avater, 
and  the  lotus  flower  near  by,  with  a  solemn,  ibis-looking  bird 
or  two  standing  about,  completes  the  illusion.  There  were 
little  wildernesses  of  charming  walks  amid  beautiful,  orna- 
mental gardening,  where  the  senses  were  charmed  with  flow- 
ers of  every  hue  and  perfume,  where  aromatic  and  curious 
shrubs  challenged  the  attention,  and  made  the  air  as  fragrant 
as  a  land  breeze  off  the  Spice  Islands. 

Then  there  was  one  feature  which  our  guide  seemed  to 
think  the  one  of  the  whole,  and  that  was  the  ingenious  tricks 
and  deceptions  which  had  been  arranged  with  water.  I  may 
as  well  observe  that  this  guide,  like  many  of  his  race  in 
Italy,  was  an  inordinate  lover  of  garlic.  That  dreadful  odor 
enveloped  him  like  a  halo,  and  when  he  opened  his  mouth  to 
speak,  there  was  a  perceptible  widening  of  our  circle  of  listen- 
ers to  get  beyond  the  range ;  but  it  was  impossible  unless  the 
wind  were  in  your  favor,  for  the  fellow  fairly  reeked  with  the 
effluvia  from  every  pore  of  his  greasy,  oily,  Italian  hide,  and 
poisoned  the  atmosphere  in  his  vicinity.  Each  of  our  party 
of  four  took  his  turn  in  occupying  the  position  next  to  the 
guide  in  his  detour  of  the  gardens.  No  one  of  us  could  have 
endured  it  the  whole  distance. 

The  water  surprises  consist  of  a  series  of  ingenious  tricks 
for  drenching  and  showering  visitors  —  considered  a  capital 


542  WATER  JOKES. 

joke,  no  doubt,  in  Italy ;  but  ladies  who  can  have  a  delicate 
silk  dress  watered  with  a  watering-pot  a  discretion,  without 
the  surprise,  and  gentlemen  who  are  not  partial  to  having 
two  or  three  pints  of  water  squirted  into  their  faces  and 
upon  their  shirt-bosoms,  do  not  appreciate  the  joke. 

One  of  these  consists  of  a  door  placed  just  ajar,  at  a  pas- 
sage leading  into  an  attractive  little  nook.  The  exploring 
tourist,  in  endeavoring  to  open  it  farther,  by  the  motion  he 
communicates  to  the  door,  receives  a  stream  full  in  the  face. 
A  Chinese  bridge  is  so  constructed  that  the  visitor,  on  reach- 
ing its  centre,  finds  himself  surrounded  by  fine  streams  of 
water  all  playing  towards  him,  from  which  it  is  impossible  to 
escape  unless  by  rushing  through  the  jets  cTeau.  Upon  one 
of  the  little  Chinese  islands  an  ornamental  swing-  invites  the 
visitor,  who  no  sooner  is  enjoying  the  motion  than  a  fine  spray 
greets  him  in  the  face ;  and  another  stream  is  so  contrived  as 
continually  to  strike  the  bottom  of  the  open-work  seat  as  he 
glides  to  and  fro.  We  only  experienced  one  of  these  sur- 
prises, and  the  volley  of  the  denunciation  that  the  guide  re- 
ceived from  the  linguist  of  our  party  in  his  own  tongue, 
coupled  with  various  powerful  English  expletives  from  the 
others,  the  import  of  which  was  unmistakable,  evidently  con- 
vinced him  that  it  "would  not  be  to  his  advantage  to  play  his 
tricks  upon  that  party  of  travellers  ;  and  he  did  not.  However, 
the  gardens  are  the  most  beautiful  and  attractive  imaginable. 
No  amount  of  money  has  been  spared  in  their  care,  or  the  dec- 
orations we  have  mentioned,  all  of  which  are  of  the  most  costly 
and  expensive  character — an  evidence  to  what  an  extent  artis- 
tic taste  may  be  carried  with  unlimited  means  behind  it. 

Having  "done"  what  was  possible  of  Genoa  in  the  brief  time 
allowed,  we  took  train  for  Turin,  en  route  for  Paris,  the  rail- 
way carrying  us  through  magnificent  mountain  scenery,  great 
tunnels,  and  fine  specimens  of  railway  engineering,  through 
the  city  of  Alessandria,  and  past  its  frowning  citadel,  through 
the  city  of  Asti,  surrounded  by  picturesque  hills,  upon  which 
probably  the  vines  grow  that  produce  the  wine  "  Asti,"  which 
figures  on  the  hotel  bills  of  fare,  and  which  is  warmly  com- 


TURIN   TO    SUSA.  543 

mended  by  landlords  and  sometimes  travellers ;  but  my  own 
experience  convinces  me  there  should  have  been  an  "  N  "  pre- 
fixed, to  have  given  the  proper  name  to  that  which  I  tasted  of 
the  brand. 

On  we  go,  through  smiling  vineyards  and  grain-fields,  and 
by  and  by  catch  a  distant  view  of  our  old  acquaintances,  the 
snowy-peaked  Alps,  against  the  horizon.  We  reached  Turin 
at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  were  driven,  through  the 
bright  gas-lighted  streets  from  the  station  at  a  spanking  pace, 
to  the  Hotel  dc  l'Europe,  situated  in  a  grand  square  opposite 
the  king's  palace,  and  kept  in  a  style  befitting  its  position.  I 
do  not  think,  in  the  whole  of  our  tour,  wo  found  a  hotel  its 
equal,  certainly  not  its  superior,  in  admirable  cuisine,  prompt 
attendance,  reasonable  prices,  and  comfortable  appointments. 
Although  arriving  at  eight  P.  M.,  and  but  four  in  party,  a 
dinner,  in  regular  courses,  was  served  for  us,  with  luxuries 
and  a  style  that  I  have  seldom  seen  equalled.  The  comforts 
and  enjoyments  of  this  admirable  establishment  caused  us  to 
regret  to  leave  it,  as  we  were  compelled  to  early  next  morn- 
ing, without  seeing  the  city,  except  snch  portion  of  it  as  we 
rode  through  on  our  way  to  the  station  of  the  railway  by 
which  we  were  to  reach  Susa,  from  whence  we  were  to  cross 
Mount  Cenis  by  carriage. 

This  carriage  trip  over  the  mountain  we  arranged  for  at 
the  hotel  in  Turin,  with  Joseph  Borgo,  the  somewhat  cele- 
brated proprietor,  who  stipulated  to  have  a  first-class  carriage 
for  four  persons,  to  convey  its  over  the  mountain  to  San 
Michel,  to  provide  four  horses,  change  a  certain  number  of 
times,  and  occupy  certain  hours  in  the  transit  —  all  of  which 
was  duly  filled  out  in  writing,  and  for  which  we  paid  two 
hundred  and  fifty-five  francs  (fifty-one  dollars),  which  included 
all  expenses  except  our  own  personal  hotel  bills.  The  car- 
riage was  promised  to  meet  us  at  the  station  in  Susa. 

A  railway  ride  of  thirty-three  miles  brought  us  to  Susa ; 
and  there,  with  the  driver  harnessing  up  four  splendid  dapple 
grays,  stood  an  establishment  in  which  one  would  not  have 
been  ashamed  to  have  made  his  appearance  on  the  drive  at 


544  A   SPANKIXG   TEAM. 

Central  Park,  New  York, — bright,  new,  and  modem  built, 
and  very  like  a  modern  American  barouche,  save  that  the  seat 
usually  occupied  by  the  driver  was  a  trifle  higher,  shielded  by 
a  chaise-top,  and  reserved  for  two  outside  passengers,  the 
driver's  seat  being  below  it,  nearer  the  horses. 

We  were  wondering:  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  our  own 
carriage,  and  what  grand  duke  was  to  take  this  handsome 
equipage,  while  the  common  people  were  entering  diligences 
and  the  usual  dust-covered,  creaking,  and  rickety  coaches 
one  becomes  so  accustomed  to  in  Italy,  when  we  observed 
our  own  luggage  being  carefully  bestowed  upon  the  rack 
behind,  and  Ave  were  approached  by  Borgo's  agent,  who  in- 
quired if  we  had  a  "billet"  for  the  "  voiture  ;"  and  upon  pro- 
ducing our  lithographed  and  signed  ticket,  the  carriage  was 
brought  up  to  where  our  group  of  a  lady  and  three  gentlemen 
stood,  with  the  usual  Italian  whip-cracking. 

The  agent  threw  open  the  door  with  a  flourish,  and, 
" Entvez,  monsieur;  we  is  ready." 

Two  seated  themselves  upon  the  box-seat,  two  upon  the 
back  seat  of  the  open  barouche ;  the  door  was  closed  with  a 
bang,  the  polite  agent  raised  his  hat. 

'•'•Bon  voyage";  and  the  driver,  firing  a  volley  of  whip- 
cracks,  the  four  grays  started  off  with  a  clatter  of  silver- 
mounted  harness,  on  a  smart  trot,  as.  we  rode  away  in  the 
best  appointed  equipage  it  had  been  our  fortune  to  enjoy 
in  our  whole  European  tour. 

This  fact  contributed  to  mitigate  the  conviction  that  fifty- 
one  dollars  in  gold  was  a  pretty  high  price,  as  it  was,  for  a 
fourteen  hour's  ride,  compared  with  that  paid  for  carriages  in 
other  parts  of  Italy  for  similar  journeys.  Borgo,  however, 
had  a  monopoly  of  the  best  carriages,  and  was  always  sure  of 
English  tourists,  who  would  take  none  other,  and  really  per- 
forms his  service  thoroughly  and  well,  without  any  attendant 
vexations,  delays,  humbugs,  or  swindles  —  a  great  considera- 
tion to  the  tourist. 

The  Mont  Cenis  Pass,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  built 
by  order  of  Najooleon  I.,  by  engineer  Fabbroni,  and  the  cul- 


MT.   CENIS   PASS.  545 

minating  point  of  it  reaches  an  elevation  of  sixty-seven  hun- 
dred and  seventy-five  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  The 
original  cost  of  the  road  was  three  hundred  thousand  pounds, 
although  a  large  additional  amount  has  since  been  expended 
upon  it,  It  is  the  safest  and  most  frequented  route  between 
France  and  Italy,  and  it  was  by  this  road  the  French  troops 
entered  Italy  in  1859. 

The  beautiful  mountain  views  of  this  grand  ride,  if  described, 
would  be  to  the  reader  almost  a  repetition  of  others  given  in 
these  pages.  The  great  sweeps  of  scenery  from  the  zigzags 
of  the  road,  the  old  Hospice  of  the  monks  that  Ave  halt  at, 
the  boundary  line  between  France  and  Italy,  all  claim  atten- 
tion as  we  roll  along  upon  our  journey,  and  feel  in  the  atmos- 
phere that  we  are  leaving  Italy's  penetrating  heat,  and,  let 
us  hope,  also  its  flies  and  filthiness,  behind  us.  Italy  was  left 
behind;  houses  of  refuge  on  the  mountain  road  had  been 
passed,  grand  scenery  viewed,  great  curves  and  wondrous 
windings  been  marvelled  at,  and  our  aching  bones  confessed 
that  even  in  the  best-appointed  vehicles,  fatigue  is  not  a 
stranger ;  so  we  were  not  sorry  at  night  to  reach  the  dirty 
little  Hotel  de  la  Poste,  in  the  muddy  little  village  of  San 
Michel,  in  French  dominions  —  Savoy. 

Next  forenoon  we  bade  adieu  to  post  travelling,  taking 
train  at  two  P.  M.  for  Macon,  on  the  Saone  River,  about 
forty  miles  north  of  the  city  of  Lyons,  where  we  saw  a  pretty 
quay  along  the  river,  and  a  bridge  over  it,  and  learned 
that  the  city  was  chiefly  dependent  on  its  wine  trade  for 
business.  The  same  chain  of  hills  that  protect  the  vine- 
yards of  that  noted  wine-growing  department  of  France 
known  as  Cote  d'Or,  extends  through  the  department  of 
Saone  et  Loire,  of  which  Macon  is  the  capital ;  but  from 
some  causes  the  wines  are  not  so  fine  as  those  of  that  cele- 
brated district :  however,  Macon  wines,  which  are  set  down 
on  most  of  the  hotel  bills  of  fore  in  Europe  and  our  own 
country,  are  served  here  in  their  original  purity  and  excel- 
lence, which  cannot  always  be  said  of  them  in  America. 
Coming  here,  we  passed  Lake  Bourget,  which  Lamartine 
35 


546  FRENCH   REVENUE    OFFICERS. 

mentions  in  his  poetry  as  "  the  lake ; "  it  looked  very  grandly 
under  the  influence  of  a  violent  SejJtember  gale,  which  was 
raising  its  waves  like  a  miniature  ocean,  at  Culoz,  where  we 
dined. 

Passing  the  night  at  Macon,  we  left  next  day  for  Paris, 
reaching  the  city  at  seven  o'clock  P.  M.  Here  once  more  we 
experienced  some  of  the  excellent  arrangements  characterizing 
great  cities  in  foreign  countries.  Not  a  passenger  was  per- 
mitted to  enter  that  jJortion  of  the  great  station  till  the  bag- 
gage was  all  unloaded  and  sorted,  which  was  done  with 
marvellous  celerity  and  skill,  each  foreign  party's  pieces  being 
selected  by  some  clews  they  had,  and  piled  together. 

This  being  clone,  we  were  permitted  to  enter;  and  a  customs 
officer,  as  we  designated  our  trunks,  inquired  if  they  contained 
eau  de  cologne,  fire-arms,  and  various  other  things,  in  a  sort 
of  formula  that  he  repeated.  We  had  nothing  "  to  declare  " 
for  Paris,  as  we  assured  this  functionary  our  luggage  was 
packed  for  America ;  in  fact,  some  of  it  was  a  sort  of  hetero- 
geneous puzzle  of  shirts,  Swiss  carved  work,  coats,  stockings, 
stereoscopic  views,  boots,  Genoese  jewelry,  handkerchiefs, 
Vienna  leather,  guide-books,  and  photographs,  such  as  all 
tourists  become  acquainted  with,  more  or  less,  upon  their  first 
experience  on  the  "grand  tour."  With  a  polite  wave  of  the 
hand,  the  officer  summoned  another,  who  also  sj)oke  English, 
and  whose  duty  it  was  to  despatch  foreigners  to  their  several 
destinations  in  the  city :  this  person,  in  his  turn,  after  learning 
the  quarter  of  the  city  we  wished  to  reach,  calling  two  railway 
porters,  transferred  our  luggage  to  a  carriage  in  waiting,  told 
the  driver  in  French  where  to  carry  us,  and  ourselves  in  Eng- 
lish what  we  were  to  pay  for  the  service,  and,  bowing  polite- 
ly, turned  on  his  heel,  and  we  were  once  more  rattling  over 
the  smooth  asphalt  pave  of  Paris,  the  streets  and  cafes  of 
which  were  ablaze  with  gas,  the  windows  gay  with  brilliant 
display  of  goods,  and  the  broad  Boulevards  thronged  with 
crowds  of  pedestrians. 

Having  experienced  the  swindles  and  inconveniences  of 
the  Grand  Hotel  and  Hotel  de  l'Athenee,  we  were  more  than 


PARIS   AGAIN.  547 

grateful  to  find  an  excellent  American  boarding-house  upon 
the  Boulevard  Haussman,  fronting  the  Rue  Trouchet,  com- 
manding an  extended  view  of  the  Boulevard  and  the  Made- 
leine, and  kept  by  Miss  Emily  Herring,  a  New  York  lady, 
where  excellent  accommodations,  prompt  service,  and  good 
cuisine  were  had,  and  no  vexatious  swindling  "  extras  "  or 
"bougies"  put  in  the  bill, French  fashion,  which  is  so  exasper- 
ating to  the  Eno-lish  and  American  tourists. 

Having  sight-seen  Paris  so  much  at  a  former  visit,  one 
might  imagine  but  little  remained  to  be  done ;  but  such  is  not 
the  case  in  this  great  capital,  though  now,  with  our  faces  set, 
as  it  were,  homewards,  there  was  but  little  time  remaining  for 
that  purpose.  A  visit  to  the  sewers  was  an  excursion  that 
we  desired  to  make,  especially  with  the  remembrance  of  Jean 
Valjean's  experiences,  in  Victor  Hugo's  story,  Les  Miserables, 
fresh  in  mind.  Having  obtained  a  permit  from  the  proper 
authorities,  we  found,  on  arriving  at  the  point  designated, 
that  we  were  one  of  a  j)arty  of  a  dozen  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
We  looked  somewhat  askant  at  the  silk  and  muslin  dresses 
of  the  former,  as  being  hardly  the  costume  one  would  select 
for  going  down  into  a  drain  with,  and  wondered  whether  the 
olfactories  of  the  wearers  would  be  proof  against  what  might 
assail  them  during  their  visit.  But  our  doubts,  as  will  be 
seen,  were  soon  removed  on  this  point. 

Descending  through  a  large  iron  trap-door  in  the  sidewalk, 
near  the  Church  of  the  Madeleine,  by  a  stone  staircase,  we 
found  ourselves  in  a  handsome,  vaulted,  stone  tunnel,  twenty 
feet  high,  with  granite  sidewalks  on  each  side,  between  which, 
in  a  space  perhaps  ten  feet  wide  and  five  deep,  ran  the  sew- 
age. By  some  admirable  system  of  ventilation,  these  sewers 
are  kept  so  clean  and  sweet  that  no  more  offence  is  done  to 
the  olfactories  than  in  a  wash-room.  Overhead  run  great 
iron  pipes,  by  which  the  city  is  supplied  with  pure  water; 
also  telegraph  wires,  enclosed  in  lead  pipes,  by  which  com- 
munication is  had  with  the  police  and  official  stations  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  city.  But  we  were  to  make  a  trip  through 
the  sewers.    Two  or  three  open  cars,  with  cushioned  seats, 


548  DOWN   IN   THE    SEWERS. 

holding  twelve  persons,  and  lighted  by  a  brilliant  carcel  lamp 
in  front,  were  in  readiness,  and  into  these  the  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen of  the  party  were  bestowed.  The  car  runs  on  a  track 
placed  on  the  edge  of  the  flowing  sewage,  and  is  propelled  by 
men  who  run  on  a  narrow  stone  pathway,  and  push  it. 

Away  we  went,  through  the  great  arched  tunnel,  now  and 
then  hearing  the  faint  rumble  of  vehicles  sound  above,  as  we 
pass  beneath  some  great  thoroughfare.  We  know  exactly 
what  quarter  of  the  city  we  are  beneath  by  the  little  blue 
china  signs,  bearing  the  names  of  the  streets,  which  are  posted 
at  intervals  along  the  walls,  and  every  now  and  then  pass 
intersecting  sewers  discharging  their  floods  into  the  main 
artery.  We  ride  smoothly  along  for  a  mile  or  two,  are 
switched  off  into  side  passages,  back  into  the  main  one,  ride 
perhaps  a  mile  or  so  more,  then  come  to  a  stop,  and  ascend 
into  a  square  of  the  city  far  distant  from  where  we  started, 
convinced  that  this  is  the  most  admirable  system  of  sewage 
that  eould  possibly  be  devised,  and  that  for  sanitary  purposes 
nothing  could  be  better.  Not  only,  let  it  be  borne  in  mind, 
is  the  sewage  carried  off  beneath  the  ground,  but  even  the 
very  sewers  themselves  kept  so  clean  and  neat,  and  withal 
so  perfectly  ventilated,  that  ladies  and  gentlemen  may  pass 
throuoh  them  without  soiling  their  clothing  or  offence  to 
the  senses. 

We  Avere  told  that,  when  completed,  there  would  be  nearly 
four  hundred  miles  of  these  sewers,  and  that  not  only  could 
they  be  made  use  of  for  conveying  the  waste  drainage  of  the 
city  away,  but  could  be  used  for  the  purpose  of  underground 
communication  of  troops  from  one  point  of  the  city  to  another, 
in  case  of  revolutionary  riots,  when  passage  above  ground 
might  be  disputed  for  four  times  the  number. 


SIC   TRANSIT."  549 


CHAPTER   XV. 

And  now  we  were  once  more  to  cross  that  narrow  strip  of 
troubled  water  which  separates  Gallic  shores  from  perfide 
Albion,  and  whose  horrors  doubtless  have  much  to  do  with 
the  dread  that  so  many  travelled  Englishmen  have  of  cross- 
ing the  Atlantic.  But  as  has  often  been  remarked,  one  may- 
cross  the  Atlantic  with  scarce  a  qualm,  and  yet  be  utterly 
prostrated,  for  the  time  being,  on  the  vile  little  tubs  of  pas- 
senger boats  in  crossing  the  English  Channel  —  a  trip  which 
the  tourist  inwardly,  with  what  inwards  are  left  of  him, 
thanks  Providence  is  made  in  less  than  two  hours.  The 
good  fortune  of  a  comparatively  smooth  sea,  quiet,  bright 
day,  and  passage  made  without  a  single  case  of  sea-sickness, 
which  was  vouchsafed  us  when  coming  over,  did  not  attend 
us  on  our  return  trip,  which  was  made  from  Boulogne  to 
Folkestone. 

On  arrival  at  the  French  pier,  a  good  stiff  breeze  in  our 
faces,  and  ominous  white  caps  to  the  waves  outside,  indicat- 
ed to  us  what  we  were  to  expect.  We  sought  the  captain, 
an  Englishman.  "  "Was  there  no  other  accommodation  than 
the  deck,"  with  its  suggestive  pile  of  wash-bowls  ?  The  close 
little  cabin  was  already  fully  occupied. 

"No,  sir ;  better  keep  on  deck  —  shall  be  over  in  little  more 
than  an  hour." 

We  remembered  the  captain's  nationality,  and  the  weak- 
ness of  his  countrymen,  and  determined  to  make  the  usual 
trial. 

"Captain,  isn't  there  a  private  state-room?  (looking  him 
fixedly  in  the  eye,  and  jingling  some  coin  musically  in  one  of 
my  pockets). 

"There  isn't  a  nook  in  the  ship  (?),  sir,  that  isn't  chock  up, 


550  ENGLISH   RUDENESS.  , 

full,  but  my  own  state-room,  and  I  sometimes  —  if  a  suvren's 
to  be  made  —  don't  mind  —  " 

A  gold  coin  bearing  the  effigy  of  Napoleon  was  in  his  hand 
before  he  could  speak  another  word. 

"This  way,  sir.  You  and  madam  will  find  a  couple  of 
nice  bunks  there ;  it'll  be  a  head  wind  and  rough  passage ; 
keep  on  your  back,  sir,  and  you're  all  right.  Tom,  mind  yer 
eye,  and  look  out  for  the  lady  'n'  gen'leman." 

The  captain's  comfortable  state-room  was  worth  the  "  tip," 
for  in  three  minutes  after  leaving  the  pier  a  dozen  were  sick, 
and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  so  were  seven  eighths  of  all  on 
board ;  and  here  we  had  the  satisfaction  of  being  wretched  in 
private,  and  served  by  Tom,  a  brisk  boy,  with  an  eye  to  a 
shilling  in  prospective,  instead  of  grovelling  in  abject  misery 
on  deck,  in  company  with  fifty  or  sixty  other  pitiable  objects, 
and  served  by  two  gruff  old  he  chambermaids,  who  peram- 
bulated back  and  forth  with  mops,  swabs,  and  wash-bowls. 

Arrived  at  Folkestone,  which  is  a  place  of  fashionable  re- 
sort, we  found,  on  stepping  ashore,  drawn  up  in  two  parallel 
lines  extending  from  the  landing  stage  up  for  twenty  rods 
or  more  towards  the  train  that  was  in  waiting,  a  large  depu- 
tation of  fashionably-dressed  men  and  women,  besides  curious 
idlers  in  waiting  to  inspect  and  stare  at  the  victims  of  Nep- 
tune's punishment.  There  stood  these  English  people,  who, 
probably,  passed  in  their  circles  among  their  countrymen  for 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  sticklers  for  laws  of  etiquette  and  po- 
liteness, no  doubt,  —  in  two  long  parallel  lines,  like  a  regiment 
on  dress  parade ;  and  between  these  fines  the  passengers,  all 
bedraggled,  pale,  and  limpy  with  sea-sickness,  and  hampered 
with  the  paraphernalia  of  travel,  were  obliged  to  pass,  sub- 
jected to  the  stare  of  vapid  swells  with  straw-colored  side 
whiskers  and  eye-glasses,  and  young  women  with  sea-side 
hats  and  parasols,  who  looked  each  passer  by  up  and  down 
and  all  over  with  the  critical  eye  of  a  recruiting  officer,  making 
those  of  their  own  sex  more  mortified  at  their  dishabille,  and 
the  other  indignant  at  this  insulting  stare.  But  the  familiar 
sound  of  the  English  tongue  on  every  side  was  music  to  our 


WONDERS   OF   LONDON.  551 

ears ;  the  railway  porters  and  guards  of  the  train  in  waiting 
all  spoke  English  when  they  asked  us  where  we  wished 
to  go. 

About  seventy  miles'  railroad  ride  and  we  were  at  London ; 
and  notwithstanding  the  advantages  of  comparison  we  had 
enjoyed  in  the  seeing  of  Paris,  Vienna,  and  other  European 
capitals,  we  could  not  help  feeling  again,  as  on  our  first  visit, 
impressed  with  the  vastness  of  this  great  city.  Mile  after 
mile  of  street  after  street,  and  still  we  went  past  miles  of 
stores  and  miles  of  houses,  streets  of  shops,  streets  of  dwell- 
ings, squares;  a  cross  street,  and  presto!  out  again  into 
another  apparently  endless  street  of  great  retail  stores,  with 
gayly-dressed  shop  windows,  and  crowds  of  vehicles  and  pe- 
destrians ;  through  another  street,  past  a  grand  park,  with  its 
green  grass  and  broad  acres,  and  stately  dwellings  about  it ; 
on  amid  the  never-ending  roar,  and  clatter,  and  hum,  and  rush 
of  cabs,  great  omnibuses,  drays,  wagons,  gay  equipages,  and 
nobby  dog  carts  —  a  never-ending,  never-ceasing,  constantly 
changing,  moving  jaanorama  of  novel  sights  and  scenes. 

LONDON".  It  is,  indeed,  a  great  capital;  only  think  of  a 
city  covering  an  area  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  square 
miles,  and  containing  three  millions  of  inhabitants ;  where 
more  than  eighteen  hundred  children  are  born  every  week, 
and  over  twelve  hundred  deaths  per  week  are  recorded. 
London,  which  was  a  British  settlement  before  the  Romans 
came  to  England;  which  was  burned  and  ravaged  by  the 
Danish  robbers  of  851,  and  a  city  which  King  Alfred  rebuilt 
and  Canute  lived  in ;  London,  a  great  city  of  over  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  thousand  inhabitants  in  Queen  Elizabeth's 
time ;  London,  that  figures  in  Shakespeare,  and  Byron,  and 
Dickens,  and  that  we  have  read  of  in  romances  and  novels, 
and  studied  about  in  histories  and  geographies,  from  child- 
hood up. 

There  is  enough  for  the  sight-seer,  the  student,  the  anti- 
quarian, or  the  tourist  to  enjoy  in  this  wondrous  old  city  if  he 
stays  in  it  a  year.  I  have  really  been  amused  to  hear  some 
of  our  American  tourists,  who  visit  Europe  for  the  usual  tour, 


552  SEEING   LONDON. 

reply,  on  being  asked  if  they  had  seen  London,  "  O,  yes,  we 
saw  everything ;  staid  there  a  whole  week." 

This  is  about  the  amount  of  time  bestowed  on  the  rare  old 
city  by  the  many  fashionable  American  tourists,  who  are  in 
haste  to  get  into  the  glare  and  glitter  of  Paris,  and  who  man- 
age by  brisk  labor  to  skim  over  the  principal  sights,  such  as 
racing  through  Westminster  Abbey,  running  about  St.  Paul's, 
giving  a  few  hours  to  the  British  Museum,  skurrying  through 
the  Tower  and  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  devoting  a  few 
evening  hours  to  Madame  Tussaud's  and  some  of  the  theatres. 
Then  there  are  those  who  go  over  and  make  no  stop  at  Lon- 
don at  first,  reserving  it  to  visit  on  their  homeward  trip  from 
the  continent,  and  find  all  too  late  that  they  have  used  up  too 
much  time  in  other  places,  and  have  not  reserved  a  tithe  of 
what  they  ought,  to  see  it,  ere  they  must  prepare  for  the 
homeward-bound  steamer. 

A  great  deal,  I  grant,  may  be  seen  of  London  in  a  fortnight's 
time,  if  the  tourist  works  industriously,  and  buckles  to  the 
task  early  and  late ;  but  the  real  lover  of  travel  will  find  six 
weeks  to  be  none  too  long,  and  may  find  abundance  of  that 
which  is  novel,  interesting,  and  instructive  fully  to  occupy  his 
attention  that  length  of  time.  I  cannot  but  think  that  early 
spring — say  the  last  of  April  and  first  of  May — is  the  very  best 
time  to  visit  England ;  the  season  seems  a  month  in  advance 
of  ours  in  New  England,  and  the  tourist  sees  how  much  more 
sensible  "crowning  a  May  Queen,"  "going  a  Maying,"  and 
dancing  round  a  May-pole,  are  there  the  first  of  May,  where 
the  flowers  are  springing  and  the  air  is  balmy,  than  in  our  New 
England,  where  chilly  east  wdnds  seem  like  the  parting  breath 
of  winter,  and  only  snow-drops  and  crocuses  dare  to  put  forth 
an  appearance  on  the  south,  sunny  sides  of  banks  or  protect- 
ing walls. 

After  shopping  abroad,  the  good,  square,  solid  honesty  of 
the  London  shopmen  is  more  fully  appreciated,  and  especially 
do  Americans  see  here  that  there  is  an  effort  by  the  trades- 
man who  has  gained  any  celebrity  for  a  specialty  —  the  tailor, 
boot  maker,  the  umbrella  maker,  or  even  a  mutton  pie  vender 


LOOKING   TOWARDS    HOME.  553 

to  keep  his  articles  up  to  the  original  standard,  that  they 
may  be  always  reliable,  and  become  a  proverb  among  pur- 
chasers. This  is  in  contrast  with  many  of  our  American 
dealers,  who,  after  "  getting  a  run "  on  goods,  endeavor  to 
realize  a  larger  and  more  immediate  profit  by  adroitly  lower- 
ing the  standard  of  quality,  or  by  skilful  adulteration. 

But  we  must  pack  our  trunks  for  the  homeward  voyage. 
A  very  large  portion  of  this  preparation  I  had  done  in  Paris 
by  a  professional  packer,  styled  an  emballeur,  an  individual 
so  skilled  in  folding  ladies'  voluminous  dresses  and  gentle- 
men's coats,  that  they  come  forth  without  a  wrinkle,  and  who 
stows  away  in  one  of  your  trunks  almost  double  the  amount 
that  you  think  it  could  possibly  be  made  to  contain  —  a  ser- 
vice, the  expense  of  which  is  trifling,  but  which  saves  the 
tourist  a  vast  amount  of  time,  as  well  as  vexatious  and  te- 
dious labor. 

More  than  six  months  of  "  living  in  a  trunk,"  and  a  con- 
stant succession  of  novelty,  and  continuous  travel  from  one 
point  to  another,  living  at  hotels,  "  grand,"  good,  indifferent, 
and  bad,  naturally  incline  one  to  long  for  rest  and  quiet ;  and, 
passionately  fond  of  travel  as  one  may  be,  there  are  but  few 
I  have  ever  encountered,  who  devoted  half  a  year  constantly 
and  faithfully  to  it,  but  were  willing  to  acknowledge  sight- 
seeing to  be  some  of  the  hardest  labor  they  ever  performed. 

There  is  one  thing  that  also  tends  to  give  the  student  or 
lover  of  travel  something  of  an  unsatisfied  feeling,  as  his 
journey  draws  near  its  close,  especially  if  he  has  been  limited 
as  to  time ;  and  that  is,  the  thought  of  how  much  there  is 
in  Europe  to  study  and  to  see,  and  how  little,  comparatively, 
he  has  accomplished.  Yet,  even  with  this  feeling,  the  author 
could  not  help  hugging  to  his  heart  the  real,  solid  enjoyment 
that  had  been  experienced  in  visiting  those  scenes  hallowed 
in  dreams  of  youthful  imagination,  in  realizing  the  hopes 
and  anticipations  of  years,  and  also  the  thought  of  what  a 
pleasure  the  memory  of  these  sights  and  scenes  in  foreign 
lands  would  be,  in  years  to  come,  as  they  were  recalled  to 
mind. 


554  LAST   PUKCHASES. 

"  But  the  ship  it  is  ready, 
And  the  wind  it  is  fair," 

and  O,  how  far  our  home  does  seem  from  us  over  the  ocean, 
now  that  we  have  had  practical  experience  upon  its  broad 
billows.  But  this  thought  is  lost  in  the  anticipation  of  meet- 
ing friends  and  loved  ones  whom  we  have  not  looked  upon 
for  six  long  months,  and  a  return  to  familiar  scenes  of  home, 
for  which  the  heart  yearns,  notwithstanding  the  attractions 
by  which  we  may  be  surrounded. 

A  last  shopping  in  London  for  English  umbrellas,  ladies' 
water-proofs,  French  dog-skin  gloves  (made  in  England), 
English  walking  shoes,  Cartwright  &  Warner's  under  cloth- 
ing, sole  leather  trunks,  furs,  which  you  can  buy  so  very 
much  cheaper  than  in  America ;  books,  such  as  you  think  you 
can  get  through  the  custom-house ;  a  few  comforts  for  the 
voyage,  which  former  experience  has  taught  you  that  you  will 
require,  and  you  are  ready. 

Down  to  the  office  of  the  Cunard  steamers,  in  London,  we 
went,  to  learn  at  what  hour  the  ship  would  leave  Liverpool, 
and  other  particulars.  This  office  we  found  to  be  in  one  of 
those  buildings  which  your  genuine  Londoner  so  delights  in 
for  a  place  of  business.  The  greater  the  magnitude  of  a 
merchant's  or  banker's  business,  and  the  wealthier  he  is,  the 
more  dingy,  contracted,  dark,  and  inconvenient  he  seems  to 
like  to  have  his  counting-house  or  business  quarters.  There 
is  nothing  the  old-fashioned  London  millionnaire  seems  to 
have  such  a  horror  of,  as  a  bright,  fresh  office,  with  plate 
glass,  oak  or  marble  counters,  plenty  of  light,  broad  mahog- 
any desks,  and  spacious  counting-house.  He  seems  to  delight 
in  a  dingy  old  building,  down  in  the  depths  of  the  city,  with 
walls  thick  enough  for  a  fortification;  built,  perhaps,  in 
Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  and  so  smoke-begrimed  that  you 
can't  tell  the  original  color  of  the  stones.  A  narrow,  squat 
doorway,  over  which  an  almost  obliterated  sign-board  bears 
the  name  of  the  firm,  —  the  original  members  of  which  have 
been  dead  a  century,  and  not  one  of  the  present  members 
bears  it,  —  is  an  indication  of  the  Englishman's  substantial 


ENGLISH    CONSERVATISM.  555 

character,  and  how  averse  he  is  to  change,  —  knowing  that 
with  his  countrymen,  the  knowledge  that  the  firm  of  "  Fogy 
Brothers  "  has  been  known  all  over  the  world  for  a  century 
as  responsible  merchants,  is  capital  in  itself,  and  one  worth 
having. 

In  America,  from  the  nature  of  things  and  our  manner  of 
doing  business,  we  are  apt  to  infer,  and  often  correctly,  such 
a  concern  is  "slow,"  infected  with  "dry  rot,"  does  not  "keep 
up  with  the  times,"  or  is  "  rusting  out,"  while  the  younger 
blood  of  Wider  Wake  &  Co.,  with  their  vigor  and  progressive 
spirit,  so  infects  all  about  them  with  their  enterprise  as  to 
command  success,  and  even  attract  from  the  older  concern  a 
portion  of  that  which  cannot  brook  the  tedious  circumlocu- 
tion of  those  who  are  tardy  in  availing  themselves  of  the  real 
improvements  of  the  age. 

I  have  been  into  the  counting-rooms  of  men  worth  millions, 
in  London,  which,  in  convenience  and  appliances  for  clerical 
labor,  were  not  equal  to  those  of  a  Boston  retail  coal-seller,  or 
haberdasher,  and  others  whose  warehouses  would  give  the 
uninitiated  American  an  impression  that  they  were  old  junk 
stores,  instead  of  the  headquarters  of  a  firm  whose  name  was 
known,  and  whose  bills  were  honored,  in  almost  every  capital 
in  Europe.  A  mousing  visit  among  some  of  these  old  places 
in  the  city  is  very  interesting,  and  has  been  made  more  so  by 
some  of  the  inimitable  descriptions  of  Dickens.  In  fact,  on 
my  return  to  London,  I  could  not  help  longing  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  spend  some  weeks  here,  and,  in  company  with 
some  old  resident,  to  explore  the  curious  old  nooks  and  cor- 
ners of  the  city,  which  contain  so  much  that  is  noted  in  his- 
tory, exhibit  so  many  different  phases  of  life,  and  hold  so 
much  that,  described,  would  be  as  novel  to  half  of  London 
itself,  as  photographs  of  the  depths  of  an  African  forest. 

The  steamship  office  was  down  in  an  old  building  which 
had  once  been  a  dwelling-house,  and  there  was  the  old  front 
door,  small  old  baluster  and  stair  rail,  and  rooms  almost  the 
same  as  they  had  been  left  years  ago,  when  a  family  dwelt 
there.    Your  Londoner  always  uses  these  old  places  just  as 


556  BEUNION   OF   TOURISTS. 

long  as  he  can  possibly  make  them  pay  without  putting  a 
shilling's  worth  of  expense  upon  them.  So  we  stumbled  up 
the  dark  staircase,  and  tumbled  into  the  low-studded  room 
that  might  once  have  been  the  family  parlor,  where  the 
requisite  information  was  obtained  of  the  clerks  in  at- 
tendance. 

When  about  to  return  home  by  steamer,  telegraph  to  the 
Adelphi,  or  the  hotel  you  intend  to  stop  at  in  Liverpool,  the 
day  before  you  take  passage  in  advance,  or  you  may  not  have 
a  desirable  room  for  your  last  night's  sleep  on  shore,  for  these 
Liverpool  hotels  are  all  full,  at  the  arrival  and  departure  of 
the  steamers,  of  passengers  who  are  arriving  and  departing. 

Coming  down  into  the  coffee-room  of  the  hotel  for  his  last 
English  breakfast,  the  tourist  will  doubtless  meet,  as  we  did, 
numerous  Americans  who  have  been  rambling  over  the  conti- 
nent  for  months,  and  are  now,  like  himself,  homeward  bound. 

"  Hallo,  Binks  !  —  is  that  you  ?  How  are  you  ?  Why,  we 
saw  your  name  on  the  register  atop  of  Mount  Righi  six 
months  ago.     Thought  you'd  gone  home." 

"  No,  sir  !  Been  everywhere,  seen  everything.  By  the  by, 
speaking  of  seeing  names,  we  travelled  right  after  you  in 
Italy,  got  to  Danielli's,  in  Venice,  day  after  you  left,  found 
your  name  in  Florence,  bought  some-  filigree  stuff  at  same 
shop  you  did  in  Genoa." 

Up  comes  another  to  exchange  greetings,  whom  you  met  in 
Strasburg  Cathedral,  and  who  has  been  to  Rome,  as  you  see 
by  his  scarf-pin,  and  introduces  his  wife,  who  has  been  in 
Vienna,  as  you  observe  by  her  Russia  leather  travelling-bag. 
They  have  also  been  to  Florence,  as  you  see  by  the  daughter's 
mosaics.  In  fact,  after  an  experience  in  shopping  on  the  con- 
tinent, you  can  tell  by  the  costumes,  ornaments,  or  travelling 
paraphernalia  of  many  of  the  homeward-bound  Yankees,  al- 
most to  a  certainty,  the  leading  cities  which  they  have  visited 
during  their  tour  abroad.  They  all  seem  to  have  seen  the 
same  sights  in  the  same  cities,  and  talk  as  glibly  about 
crossing  over  Rue  Rivoli,  and  going  up  Rue  Scribe,  or  "  when 
we  were  riding  out  in  the  bwar  one  afternoon,"  as  if  they 


ALL   ABOARD.  557 

were  as  familiar  with  Paris  all  their  lives  as  they  are  Avith 
Wall  Street,  Fifth  Avenue,  Beacon  Street,  Chester  Park,  or 
Chestnut  Street. 

Amusing  also  to  the  old  traveller  must  be  the  ease  with 
which  some,  who  have  had  but  a  three  months'  "scoot"  over 
the  continent,  speak  of  "  running  down  to  Rome,"  or  "  stop- 
ping at  Berlin  a  day  or  two,"  or  "the  day  we  went  over  the 
Alps,"  "pretty  place  is  Lucerne.  We  staid  there  all  day." 
We  could  but  think  ourselves,  however,  that  one  needs  six 
months'  travel  in  Europe  in  order  to  learn  how  to  see  it,  and 
to  prepare  for  a  second  visit. 

We  must  be  at  the  "  landing  stage  "  at  the  dock  at  twelve 
o'clock ;  so  the  placard  posted  in  the  hotel  informs  us.  And 
on  arrival  there  with  our  pile  of  luggage,  we  find  a  fussy  little 
Pancks  of  a  steam-tug  waiting  to  take  the  mails  and  luggage 
aboard,  and  another  to  take  the  passengers  themselves. 
Here,  on  the  pier,  are  the  usual  scenes  of  parting  and  leave- 
taking,  and  some  few  privileged  ones  go  out  on  the  tug  to  the 
steamer,  which  lies  in  the  stream  half  a  mile  away,  emitting 
volumes  of  black  smoke,  and  gathering  strength  for  her  jour- 
ney. Forests  of  masts  are  at  the  docks,  one  or  two  huge 
vessels  of  war  out  in  the  stream,  some  great,  dismantled  hulks 
on  an  opposite  shore,  and  a  fresh  sea  breeze  coming  in,  curls 
the  dark-blue  waves  over  with  a  white  fringe,  making  the 
whole  scene  appear  very  like  dozens  of  "marine  views"  that 
we  have  seen  in  art  galleries. 

Stepping  on  board,  we  are  at  once  in  the  midst  of  a  tre- 
mendous crowd  of  luggage  and  passengers,  ship's  crew,  stew- 
ards, and  officers,  mixed  up  in  every  direction.  We  have  the 
number  of  our  state-room,  and  get  the  steward  and  porter  of 
the  section  in  which  it  is  situated  pointed  out  to  us  by  an 
obliging  officer.  Both  of  these  individuals  seem  in  too  great 
a  hurry  to  stop  and  hear  us  as  we  commence  a  request; 
but  we  have  profited  by  experience.  My  hand  is  already  in 
my  pocket,  a  few  hurried  words,  the  quiet  passage  of  her 
majesty's  portrait  in  silver  into  the  palm  of  the  listener,  and 
in  five  minutes  the  luggage  for  our  state-room  is  there,  and 


558  HOME   AGAIN. 

the  porter  touches  his  hat,  and  asks  if  there  is  "  anything 
else,  sir,"  while  the  steward  comes  soon  after  to  tell  me  to 
"  call  for  George  whenever  we  want  anything."  Such  is  the 
mysterious  power  of  her  majesty's  coin  on  her  subjects. 

The  reader  need  not  have  rehearsed  again  to  him  the  ex- 
periences of  the  passage  over,  which  differs  but  little  from 
those  already  described  in  these  pages,  except  that  it  was 
rougher,  and,  as  the  sailors  say,  "all  up  hill,"  while  from 
America  to  England  it  is  down,  and  that  we  counted  the 
completion  of  each  day's  journey  as  so  much  nearer  home. 
But  when  old  Boston's  spires  came  in  sight,  and  the  swelling 
dome  of  the  State  House  rose  to  view,  it  seemed  that  we  had 
looked  upon  no  sight  or  scene  in  foreign  lands,  and  visited  no 
place  over  the  ocean  that  was  a  more  pleasant  picture  to  look 
upon  —  its  attraction  in  our  eyes  heightened,  no  doubt,  by  that 
charm  that  invests  one's  native  land  and  childhood's  home. 


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